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■U^^- PAINTED . BY ^^feg- 




By R. Talbot Kelly, R.B.A., F.R.G.S. 

Containing 75 Full-page Illustrations in 
colour facsimile. 


By Mortimer Menpes 
Text by Flora Annie Steel 

Containing 75 Full-page Illustrations in 
colour facsimile. 



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Hungary, Russia, ( Brockhaus and Pehrsson 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2013 






painted by 
Major E. MOLYNEUX, D.S.O. 

1 9 1 1 

First published September 1909 
Reprinted August \<)\x-' 

FEB 21 1966 

'^S/TV OF 










When Major Molyneux asked me to combine with 
him in the production of a book on Kashmir I 
could not resist the temptation to describe what 
he had so faithfully depicted, though my official 
duties naturally leave me insufficient time to do 
real justice to the theme. I have not been able 
to write with the completeness that I should have 
wished ; and I am aware of many sins of omission. 
I can only hope that when the description fails 
the reader will be fortunate to have his atten- 
tion irresistibly diverted to one or other of my 
collaborator's beautiful pictures. 

The Residency, Srinagar, 
September I9O8. 




Scenery and Seasons 

Bernier's impression of Kashmir in 1665 — Comparison of Kashmir and 
Switzerland — The road in — First signs of spring — Srinagar in 
March — A start for Shikar — Shikaris — Forest-clad hill-sides — 
Signs of stag — View over the valley — Rosy mountains — Unrealised 
beauties — A duck-shoot — The view from Hokrar — Harwan in spring 
— Varying beauties of Kashmir — Harwan in May — Clouds on the 
mountains — A Kashmir village — Irises and roses — Trout-culture 
— A trout stream — Srinagar in April — The view from Gupkar — A 
spring scene — Unusual rain — The Nishat Bagh — Pandrathan — 
Srinagar in summer — The valley in September — The end of the 
monsoon — The gorgeous autumn — A Hokrar duck -shoot — The 
valley in winter —Shikaris — Shooting in winter ... 1 


Travel in Kashmir 

Travel in old times — My first entrance — My old retainer — Present 
modes of travel — Stages from the railway— Srinagar liouse-boats — 
Srinagar shops — Expeditions from Srinagar —The descent from 
the Tragbal ......... 47 


Srinagar and Neighbourhood 

An old capital — The Maharaja's arrival — Procession through the city — 
The European quarter — The Jama Masjid — Shah Hamadan — Dr. 

ix h 



Neve's Hospital — The Takht-i-Sulimaii — Paiidrathaii — The Dal 
Lake — The Nasim Bagh — The Shalimar Baj^h — The Nishat Ba^h 
— Parihasapura ......... (53 


The Residency Garden 

The first week in March — Fruit trees in bloom — Kashmir tulips — 
Golden orioles — Roses in May — Strawberries — Burbank's Del- 
phiniums—The height of summer — The garden in autumn — 
Autumnal colours ........ 87 



The Meadow of Flowers " — Its numerous attractions — Views over the 
valley — Flowers — Nanga Parbat ..... 98 


The Valleys and Places of Interest 

The Sind Valley— Gangabal Lake— The Lolab— The Lidar Valley— 
Martand— Achibal 108 



Game Preservation — The year's bag — Duck-shooting — Fishing . 118 


The People 

Kashmir beauties — The Pundits — Mohamedans — The Quadiani sect — 
Kashmiri villagers — Boatmen ...... 126 




The History of Kashmir 

Possible effect of natural beauty — Aucieiit ruins — Martand — Greek 
influence — Buddhist influence — Kanishka — Lalitaditya— Avauti- 
varman — Short reigns — Internal struggles — Perpetual intrigue — 
Advent of Mohamedans — Zain-ul-ab-ul-din — Akbar — The Moghals 
— Afghan oppressors — Sikhs — Rise of Gulab Singh — Break-up of 
Sikhs — Gulab Singh and the British — Treaty of 1846 — Gulab 
Siugh acquires Kashmir — Its deplorable state — Ranbir Singh — 
Country still depressed — Famine of 1877 — Improvements during 
present reign 133 


System of rule — Personal — Sources of revenue — Land revenue 
assessment ......... 183 


Products and Manufactures 

Wool — Silk — Fruit — Rice — Other grains — Experimental farm — Soil — 
Implements — Forests — Mineral products — Shawls — Carpets — Silk 
— Papier-mache' — Puttoo — Boat-building — Trade . . 194 


The Electrical Scheme 

Water-power turned to electric power — The Jhelum River harnessed 
— The flume — The power-house — Difficulties encountered — The 
dredging scheme ........ 222 


The Peaks and Mountain Ranges 

The Peak K^ — Errors in observation — Nanga Parbat — Rocks of great 
peaks — The Himalayan range ...... 284 




The Story of the Mountains 

Interest of study — Kashmir under the sea — 100,000^000 years ao;o 

Kashmir an archipelago — Finally upheaved — Cause of upheaval 

History of life — At first no land life — Ferns — The Coal Measures 
— Great reptiles — Mammals — Kashmir valley a lake— Appear- 
ance of man — Reflections on the story — Need to look forward — 
Creating higher man . . . . . . . .251 


By major E. MOLYNEUX, D.S.O. 


1. Wild Rhododendrons . . . Frontispiece 

2. Approach to Srinagar ...... 2 

3. The Land of Roses ....... 4 

4 Mouth of the Sind Valley 6 

5. Sunset on the Wular Lake ..... 8 

6. Dawn in the Nulla . . . . . . . 10 

7. Kotwal from the Forest above Kangan, Sind Valley 12 

8. Above the Camping-Ground, Sonamarg, Sind Valley 14 

9. The Kajnag from Sopur, Early Spring . . . l6 

10. Kotwal from near the Dal Darwaza . . . . 18 

1 1 . The Lull before the Storm, Dal Lake ... 20 

12. Above Lidarwat, Lidar Valley 22 

13. Sunset on the Jhelum, above Srinagar ... 24 

14. Spring in Kashmir ....... 26 

15. On the Dal Lake in Spring 28 

16. Entrance to the Mar Canal ..... 32 

17. The Temple, Clienar Bagh ..... 34 

18. Ruins of Lalla Rookh's Gardens, Lake Manasbal . 36 

19. A Ladaki in Summer Costume 52 




20. The Valley of Gurais . . . ; . . 62 

21. Market Boats on the Mar Canal, Sruiagar . . 64 

22. Above the Fifth Bridge, Srinagar . . . . 66 

23. Shawl Merchants' Shops, Third Bridge, Srinagar . 68 

24. Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinagar ... 70 

25. A Hindu Temple, Srinagar ..... 72 

26. In the Mar Canal, Srinagar . . . . . 74 
27 Guggribal Pointe on the Dal Lake . . . . 76 

28. Lotus Lilies on the Dal Lake ..... 78 

29. Shalhnar Gardens 80 

30. The Nishat Bagh 82 

31. A Terrace of the Nishat Bagh ..... 84 

32. The Residency and Club, Srinagar .... 88 

33. The Takht-i-Suliman, from the Residency Garden . 94 

34. On the Circular Road, Guhnarg . . . .100 

35. In the Forest 102 

36. From the Circular Road, Guhnarg . . . .104 

37. Gorge of the Sind Valley at Guggangir . . .108 

38. The Frozen Lake, Gangabal . . . . .110 

39. Early Morning near Pahlgam, Lidar Valley . . 112 

40. The Ruins of Martand . . . . .114 

41. A Srinagar Bazaar . . . . . . II6 

42. A Corner of the Village of Pahlgam, Lidar Valley . 128 

43. A Mountain Farm-House . . . . . .130 

44. A Boatman and his Family . . . . .132 

45. Ruins of Temples, Wangat, Sind Valley . . . 134 

46. Ruined Gateway of Martand . . . . . 1S6 

47. Ruined Temples of Avantipur . . . .138 



48. Gate of the Outer Wall, Hari Parbat Fort, Srinagar . 156 

49. At the River's Edge, Srinagar 16O 

50. Lalla Rookh's Tomb, Hassan Abdal . . . . l62 

51. Bridge of Burbur Shah, Chenar Bagh, Srinagar . 164 

52. Spring Floods in the Kutical Canal, Srinagar . . 166 

53. Looking down the Gurais Valley, from Dudhgai 

Village 168 

54. Akbar's Bridge, Karallayar . . . . ,174 

55. The Camping-Ground at Lidarwat . . . . 198 

56. A Wayside Shrine 202 

57. Evening on the Dal Lake 210 

58. Mount Haramokh, from the Erin Nullah . . . 238 
59- A Mountain Glen, before tlie Melting of the Snows . 240 

60. Lake Shisha Nag, Lidar Valley .... 244 

61. Distant View of Xanga Parbat, from the Kamri Pass 246 

62. Mount Kolahoi, Lidar Valley 248 

63. Rampur, Jhelum Valley Road . . . . , 252 

64. In the Sind Valley 254 

65. Lake Shisha Nag at Sunset . . . . .258 

66. The Tannin Glen, Lidar Valley .... 260 

67. Going to the Wedding, Upper Indus Valley . . 262 

68. Mountain Mists 264 

69. Near the Kolahoi Glacier, Lidar \^alley . . . 266 

70. Lake Sinsa Nag, Lidar Valley 270 

Sketch Map of Kashmir at end of Volume. 




Bernier, the first European to enter Kashmir, 
writing in 1665, says : " In truth, the kingdom sur- 
passes in beauty all that my warmest imagination 
had anticipated." This impression is not univers- 
ally felt, for one of the very latest writers on 
Kashmir speaks of it as overrated, and calls the 
contour of the mountains commonplace and com- 
parable to a second-rate Tyrolean valley. And 
fortunate it is that in this limited earth of ours 
we every one of us do not think alike. But 
I have seen many visitors to Kashmir, and my 
experience is that the bulk of them are of the 
same view as the above-mentioned Frenchman. 
They have read in books, and they have heard 
from friends, glowing descriptions of the country ; 

but the reality has, with most, exceeded the 




expectation. Some have found the expenses of 
hving and the discomforts of travel greater than 
they had expected. And some have arrived when 
it was raining or cloudy, and the snows were not 
visible; or in the middle of summer when the 
valley is hazy, steamy, and filled with mosquitoes. 
But when the clouds have rolled by, the haze 
lifted, and a real Kashmir spring or autumn day 
disclosed itself, the heart of the hardest visitor 
melteth and he becomes as Bernier. 

The present book will deal, not with the whole 
Kashmir State, which includes many outlying 
provinces, but with Kashmir Proper, with the 
world-renowned valley of Kashmir, a saucer-shaped 
vale with a length of 84 miles, a breadth of 20 to 
25 miles, and a mean height of 5600 feet above 
sea-level, set in the very heart of the Himalaya, 
and corresponding in latitude to Damascus, to 
Fez in Morocco, and to South Carolina. 

The country with which one is most apt to com- 
pare it is, naturally, Switzerland. And Switzerland, 
indeed, has many charms, and a combination of 
lake and mountain in which, I think, it excels 
Kashmir. But it is built on a smaller scale. 
There is not the same wide sweep of snow- 
clad mountains. There is no place where one 




can see a complete circle of snowy mountains 
surrounding a plain of anything like the length 
and breadth of the Kashmir valley, for the main 
valleys of Switzerland are like the side valleys of 
Kashmir. And above everything there is not 
behind Switzerland what there is at the back of 
Kashmir, and visible in glimpses from the southern 
side, — a region of stupendous mountains surpassing 
every other in the world. 

By these Himalayan regions only, by the 
mountains of Baltistan and Hunza, and by those 
unequalled mountains seen from Darjiling, can 
Kashmir be excelled. There indeed one sees 
mountain majesty and sublimity at their very 
zenith. And with such as these Kashmir cannot 
compare. But it possesses a combination of quiet 
loveliness and mountain grandeur which has a 
fascination all its own. If one could imagine the 
smiling, peaceful Thames valley with a girdle of 
snowy mountains, he would have the nearest 
approach to a true idea of Kashmir it is possible 
to give. He would not expect the stern rugged- 
ness and almost overwhelming majesty of the 
mighty mountains beyond Kashmir. But he 
would have the tranquil beauty and genial loveli- 
ness which to some are even preferable. 



Of this, my collaborators pictures will give a 
true and vivid impression, though every artist allows 
that it is impossible to give in a single picture 
the broad general effect of those wide-flung land- 
scapes and of the snowy ranges stretching from one 
horizon to another. For that impression and for 
the varying effect of spring and autumn, of winter 
and summer, dependence must be on the pen alone. 

Which is the most lovely season each must 
decide for himself. In the spring we think the 
spring the most exquisitely beautiful. In the 
autumn we say that nothing could exceed the 
charm of the brilliant autumn tints. But as it 
is in the spring that most visitors first arrive, and 
as it is the real beginning of the year, there will 
be some advantage in commencing in that season 
the delicate task of describing Kashmir. 

In the first week in March I drove into Kashmir, 
— this last year, fortunately, in fine weather. In 
other years at this season I might not have 
been so fortunate, and the reader must take this 
possibility of drenching rain, of muddy roads, 
and dangerous landslips into account. For that 
purpose, however, there is no need to offer aid to 
his imagination, as rainy days are much the same 
all the world over. 





The long drive from the Railway Station at 
Rawal Pindi, 196 miles from Srinagar, was 
nearly ended. We had steadily ascended the 
valley of the Jhelum, with the river continually 
dashing past us on the left, a strong impetuous 
stream now being turned to useful ends, firstly, 
in generating electric power near Rampur, and 
secondly, in irrigating millions of acres in the 
plains of the Punjab below. We had passed 
through the peaceful deodar forest on either side 
of Rampur, and the splendid limestone cliffs 
which rise precipitously from them. Just beyond 
we had passed massive ruins of the so-called 
Buddhist, but really Hindu temple, dating about 
700 A.D. All the country had been blanketed 
with snow ; the hill-sides forested with thousands 
of Christmas trees glistening in the brilliant sun- 
shine, and the frozen road had been rattling under 
the ponies' feet. AVhen gradually the narrow valley 
opened out. The enclosing hills widened apart. 
The river from a rushing torrent became as placid 
as the Thames, with numerous long-prowed boats 
gliding smoothly downward. The little town of 
Baramula, and the first distinctive chalet-like, but 
dirty, shaky habitations of Kashmir ; a graceful 
Hindu temple ; fine specimens of the famous 



chenar trees ; and a typical log bridge, came into 
view ; and then, as the hill-sides finally parted 
asunder, the glorious valley itself — a valley on so 
extensive a scale as really to be a plain amidst the 
mountains — was disclosed ; and faintly mingling 
with the cloudless azure of the sky, on the far 
side stretched the great range of snowy mountains 
which bound Kashmir on the north, with the 
Haramokh peak, 16,900 feet high, standing boldly 
out 35 miles distant immediately in front ; and 
from just beyond Baramula even Nanga Parbat 
itself, 26,600 feet, and 70 miles distant, tower- 
ing nobly over the lower ranges, the solitary 
representative of the many mountain giants which 
lay behind. 

Then as we emerged into the open valley the 
snow disappeared and the first faint signs of spring 
were visible. All the trees were indeed still bare. 
Neither on the massive chenar nor on the long lines 
of poplars which bordered the road continuously 
from Baramula to Srinagar was there a vestige of a 
leaf; and all the grass was absolutely brown. But 
in the willows there was just the suspicion of yellow- 
green. The little leaf-buds were just preparing to 
burst. On the ground were frequent masses of 
yellow crocuses and familiar bluebells. Here and 




there were clumps of violets. Occasionally a 
tortoise-shell or cabbage-white butterfly would 
flutter by. Above all, the glorious brilliant sun- 
shine, the open, clear blue sky, and the soft touch 
and gentle feel which at noonday replaced the 
crisp, frosty nip of the morning air gave certain 
promise of the approach of spring. 

Again, when at length Srinagar, the capital 
of Kashmir, was reached, and I was back in my 
much -loved garden, still other signs of spring's 
arrival were evident. Violets, pansies, wallflowers, 
narcissus, crocuses, and daisies were out. A few 
green blades were showing through the brown 
grass. Rose leaf-buds were bursting. In one 
garden near a few apricot blossoms had actually 
bloomed. And the whole garden was filled with 
the spring song of the birds lightly turning to 
thoughts of love — thrushes, minas, sparrows, blue- 
tits, hoopoes, starlings ; bold, familiar crows, and, 
most delightful of them all, the charming little 
bulbuls with their coquettish top-knots — the 
friendly little beings who come confidingly in at 
the windows and perch on the curtain rails or chairs, 
and even on the table to peck sugar from the basin. 

And so for many days the weather continued, 
the temperature a degree or two below freezing- 



point at night, and rising to a maximum of 55' in the 
shade and 105° in the sun in the day-time. Day 
after day cloudlessly clear. The snowy ranges 
standing out sharp and distinct. The nearer 
mountains still covered with snow to within a 
thousand or two feet of the valley level. In the 
early morning all the valley -bottom glistening 
silvery-white with hoar frost. Then towards noon 
a curious struggle between summer and winter. 
The aspect of the country outside the garden 
entirely winter — leafless trees and frost -withered 
grass ; but in the still air the sun's rays, with daily 
increasing power, having all the warmth of an early 
summer day in England ; and under the noonday 
sun the mountains fading in a dreamy haze. 

Then, of a sudden, came one of those complete 
and rapid changes which so enhance the charm of 
Kashmir. Dark ominous clouds settled on the near 
mountain-tops ; here and there sweeping along 
their summits whirling snowstorms were driven 
along ; the distant snows showed up with that 
steel-grey definition which in storm-ridden days 
replaces the dreamy indistinctness of more sunny 
times ; now and then a glinting sun -ray breaking 
through the driving clouds would brighten up 




some solitary peak ; and in the valley bottom 
periods of threatening stillness would alternate 
with gusty bursts of wind. 

Such signs are usually the presage of unpleasant 
weather. But in the present case rain did not fall ; 
and this was fortunate, for I had gone into camp 
to shoot a bara-singh, the famous Kashmir stag. 
Rising at four on the following morning, and, as 
soon as I had had a hurried breakfast, mounting a 
shaggy, naughty little pony captured in the fighting 
in Tibet, I followed the shadowy form of a shikari 
bestriding a still more diminutive country pony. 
Most of the clouds of the previous day had 
disappeared. The wind had died down, and the 
stars were shining out with that clear brilliance 
only seen amidst the mountains and in the desert. 
There was a sharp, bracing feeling in the air — not 
the same stinging cold I had felt when riding along 
this road at night in January, but strong and 
invigorating. We stumbled along on our ponies 
across fields and by paths which only a native could 
detect. At each village dogs howled dismally at 
us, but not a soul was astir. We gradually 
approached the dark outlines of the mountains, 
and near their base, while it was still pitch dark, 
we were joined by other shikaris who, like stage 




conspirators and with bated breath, explained 
where a stag had been seen on the previous day. 
I had then to dismount and walk ; steadily and 
silently we ascended the mountain - side, and by 
sunrise were 3000 feet above the valley. The 
shikaris were now visible, and like their class hard 
and keen-looking, clearly used to live on mountain- 
sides in cold and heat, and to be ever peering into 
distances. The head shikari was a grey, grizzled, 
old-looking man, though I daresay he was really 
not over fifty ; hard and tough, and very grave 
and earnest — for to him all else in the world is play, 
and shikar is man's real work in life. Residents, 
no doubt, have some employments to amuse them- 
selves with in ordinai y times ; but when the real 
business of life has to be done they come to him, 
and he takes them gently in hand like little 
children, and shows them the haunts of the 
Kashmir stag, his habits, where he wanders, and 
how to pursue him. 

So now I put myself humbly in charge of the 
shikaris, for I make no pretence to be a sports- 
man. They thereupon proceed to whisper together 
with profound earnestness and dramatic action. 
They point out the exact spot where, on the 
previous afternoon, a stag was seen. They pick 




up little tufts of his hair brushed off, as they 
say, in fighting. They show his footsteps in the 
soft soil and on patches of snow. And they are 
full of marvellous conjectures as to where he can 
have gone. But gone he has, and that was the 
main fact which no amount of whispering could 
get over. 

So on we went along the mountain-side, and 
now through deep snow, for we were on a north- 
ward-facing slope of an outlying spur — and all 
slopes which face northward are wooded, while 
southward-facing slopes are bare. The explanation 
was evident. For on the latter slopes the sun's 
rays fell directly and almost at right angles, and 
in consequence fallen snow quickly disappears : 
while on the northern slopes the sun's rays only 
slant across the surface ; the snow remains much 
longer ; the moisture in the soil is retained ; 
vegetation flourishes ; trees grow up ; they in 
their turn still further shade the snow, and with 
their roots retain the moisture. And so as a 
net result one side of a mountain is clothed in 
dense forest, and on the other there may not be a 
single tree. Thus it is that on the southern 
side of Kashmir, that is, on the northward-idLomg 
slopes of the Pir Panjal range, there is, as at 



Gulmarg, dense and continuous forest, while on the 
northern side of the valley, on the slope of the hill 
that consequently faces southward, there is no 
forest except on the slopes of those subsidiary 
spurs which face northward. 

We followed the tracks of the stag through this 
patch of forest, mostly of hazels, the shikaris 
pointing out where the stag had nibbled off the 
young leaf- buds and bark which seem to form the 
staple food of the deer at this time of year. At 
last we came to another shikari who said he had 
seen the stag that very morning. But I suspect this 
was merely a form of politeness to reinspire my 
lagging hope, for though I went down and up and 
along the mountain-side, and spent the whole day 
there, I saw no stag. Once we heard a rustling 
among the leaves, and hope revived, but it was 
merely a troop of monkeys. A little later a 
boar shuffled out ; and again, on a distant spur, 
disporting himself in the sunshine, we saw a bear ; 
but no stag. 

Still, in spite of the exertion and in spite of the 
disappointment, a day like this on the mountain- 
side is felt as one of the days in which one lives. 
The air was fresh and bracing. There was some- 
thing both soothing and inspiring in the quiet of 




the mountains and the immense distances before 
me. Far away to the south majestic clouds and 
snowstorms were sweeping along the snowy range 
of the Pir Panjal. Beneath was the placid river 
wending its tortuous way through the peaceful 
valley. On one hand would be seen angry storm- 
clouds rolling threateningly across with numerous 
sun-rays piercing through and lighting up the 
serpentine course of the river. On the other, 
emerging from the black masses, would appear the 
sunlit snowy range, not hard, defined, and clear, 
and rooted on earth, but to all appearances hung 
from the heavens like an ethereal transparency. 

Hour after hour I alternately feasted on the 
changing scenes displayed across the valley, and 
with my field-glasses searched the mountain-side 
for bara-singh. When evening closed in I returned 
to camp, where business kept me on the following 
day, but on the day after I again rode out while it 
was yet dark. As the first faint signs of dawn 
appeared I began the ascent of the mountain with 
the shikaris. The heavens were clear and cloudless. 
The bluey-black of the sky imperceptibly faded 
into grey. The mountain slowly turned from grey 
to brown as we steadily worked upward. The 
reposeful stillness which is the characteristic charm 



of the mountains was only broken by the cheerful 
chuckle of the chikor, or the occasional twitter of 
a bird calling to its mate. Then as we reached 
the summit of a ridge, and I looked out through 
the greys and browns, a sudden thrill struck 
through me as, all unexpectedly, my eye lit on the 
long flush of rosy pink which the yet unrisen sun 
had thrown upon the distant mountains, and which 
was the more pronounced and striking because 
their skyey background and their base was still the 
grey of night. Not often does one see a range of 
rosy mountains. And even now the effect lasted 
for a short time only. For rapidly a faint blue 
drowned the grey. The sky grew bluer and bluer. 
The valley became filled with light. But, alas! 
the rosy pink that had flushed the snowy summits 
faded imperceptibly away to barren whiteness. 
The whole long range of mountains showed them- 
selves out with admirable clearness, but distinctly 
rooted in the unromantic brown of the valley. 

By seven we were at the summit of the 
mountain with the sun now shining full upon us, 
the air crisp and frosty — the very ideal of young 
and vigorous day. We marched steadily along the 
ridge searching the hollows on either side for stag, 
but all we saw was a boar breaking the ice in a 



pool on the ridge to get a morning drink. At 
length we halted for refreshment and rest still on 
the summit of the ridge with the most beautiful 
valley on earth spread out in all its loveliness 
3000 feet below, and the heavenly snowy range 
boundinor the horizon from end to end before us. 
Just faintly the sounds from some village below 
would be wafted to us through the clear still air. 
But otherwise we seemed serenely apart from the 
noisy turmoil of humanity ; and bathed in the 
warm noonday sunlight I was able to drink in all 
the spirit of the loveliness around me. 

And there came upon me this thought, which 
doubtless has occurred to many another besides 
myself — why the scene should so influence me and 
yet make no impression on the men about me. 
Here were men with far keener eyesight than my 
own, and around me were animals with eyesight 
keener still. Their eyes looked on the same scene 
as mine did, and could distinguish each detail with 
even greater accuracy. Yet while I lay entranced 
with its exquisite beauty the keen-eyed shikaris, 
the animals, and the soaring eagle above me, might 
have been stone blind for all the impression of 
beauty it left upon them. Clearly it is not the eye, 
but the soul that sees. But then comes the still 



further reflection — what may there not be staring 
me straight in the face which I am as blind to 
as the Kashmir stags are to the beauties amidst 
which they spend their entire lives ? The whole 
panorama may be vibrating with beauties man 
has not yet the soul to see. Some already living, 
no doubt, see beauties that we ordinary men can- 
not appreciate. It is only a century ago that 
mountains were looked upon as hideous. And in 
the long centuries to come may we not develop 
a soul for beauties unthought of now ? Un- 
doubtedly we must. And often in reverie on 
the mountains I have tried to imagine what still 
further loveliness they may yet possess for men. 

From clambering over the high mountains in 
search of a solitary stag to sitting in a boat in 
the middle of a lake with thousands of ducks 
incessantly swishing round, is only one other 
example of the variety of scene and interest 
which Kashmir affords. There was just time 
before the end of the season for a final duck 
shoot, and eight of us rode or drove out six miles 
from Srinagar to the famous Hokrar Ghat, " jheel," 
which the Maharaja had so kindly placed at the 
disposal of the Resident for the season. 




We meet at the edge of the lake and draw 
lots for the numbered butts. The shikaris, boat- 
men, and boats are awaiting us, and as soon as 
we have decided where each is to go, and have 
fixed a time to cease shooting as an interval for 
lunch, and to give the ducks time to settle again 
for the further shooting in the afternoon, we 
embark each on a light shallow skiff with our 
guns, cartridges, and tiffin, and glide out through 
a narrow channel in the reeds to the open water 

Hokrar is right in the centre of the valley, 
and from the lake a complete elliptical ring of 
snowy mountains can be seen. The nearest and 
most conspicuous peak is Haramokh, 16,903 feet, 
and 24 miles distant. From this the eye ranges 
from peak to peak to the Khagan range 70 miles 
distant in the extreme west of the valley ; then 
along over the Kaj Nag mountains separated by 
the gorge of the Jhelum River valley from the 
Pir Panjal range, which forms the southern 
boundary of the valley with Gulmarg, 24 miles 
distant, on its southern slopes. Then traversing 
the whole length of the Pir Panjal range from 
the highest point, Tatakute, 15,524 feet, the eye 
falls to the depression over which lies the Banihal 




Pass, and rising again meets the Kishtwar range 
65 miles distant, closing in the valley on the east, 
from whence the eye wanders on snowy ranges 
till Haramokh in the north again is met. 

The day was another of glorious sunshine, and 
in the noonday sun the southern range was 
bathed in dazzling light, the northern showed up 
sharp and clear with the sun's rays beating straight 
upon it, while the distant ranges right and left faded 
away in haze and dreamland. Soft woolly clouds 
floated along the mountain-sides. A sharp, crisp 
air freshened one up and broke the water into 
dancing glittering ripples on which innumerable 
duck were bobbing up and down. 

Here we shot for a couple of hours before 
tiffin, and afterwards till evening closed in. It 
was not one of the great shoots like we have 
in the autumn, and which I will describe later, but 
was none the less enjoyable, and being the last 
of the season each made the most of it. 

At the end of March I visited Harwan, a 
very favourite spot, once the abode of a famous 
Buddhist saint, and now best known as the site 
of the reservoir for the water-supply of Srinagar 
and of the tanks for trout-breeding. Rain had 




fallen in the night, and heavy clouds hung over- 
head with only occasional glimpses of intensely clear 
blue sky between them. But spring was now clearly 
advancing. The great chenar trees, two and three 
centuries old, were still bare, but the willows 
were showing fresh young leaves ; the apricot 
trees were covered with clouds of blossom, pink 
and white. The mountain-sides were dotted with 
white wild cherry and pear and apple in full 
bloom ; the ground was often white like snow 
with the fallen petals ; the young hazel-nut leaves 
gave freshness to the mountain-side ; and near at 
hand were violets, anemones, and cuckoo flowers. 
The air was rich with the scent of the fruit trees. 
Swarms of bees were humming around them ; 
butterflies — tortoise-shell, clouded yellow, and 
cabbage-white — fluttered in the sunshine ; and the 
lively twittering of birds — bulbuls, goldfinches, 
wagtails, and tits — gave yet one further evidence 
of the awakening spring. 

Each spot in Kashmir one is inclined to think 
the most beautiful of all — perhaps because each 
in some particular excels the rest. Certainly 
Harwan has many fascinations of its own. Rising 
sheer behind was a mountain crowned with dark 
precipices overhung by heavy clouds through which 


pierced the snowy summit. Clear crystal streams 
rushed along the valley with a cheery rustling 
sound. In the middle distance lay the placid Dal 
Lake — on the far side overshadowed by the Hari 
Parbat fort. The main valley was interspersed 
with village clumps of fresh willow, clouds of 
fruit blossom, and majestic chenars. In the far 
distance lay the snowy ranges of the Pir Panjal, 
the Kaj Nag, and Khagan ; and facing round 
again to the north rose the striking Mahadeo 
peak — rocky, bold and precipitous, and pine-clad 
to near the summit. 

And one of the further attractions of Kashmir 
is not only that each spot is so different from the 
other, but that each spot has a different aspect 
every day. Bright days are the more numerous, 
but dull days also have no less striking attractions. 
The day after our arrival at Harw^an was still and 
heavy ; the whole sky was overhung with clouds, 
though they were high above the mountains, and 
even the most distant ranges showed up with 
unusual clearness white and distinct against the 
grey monotone sky. The stillness and the heavy 
cloud evidently portended a storm, and in the 
afternoon the distant horizon grew darker and 
darker. The snowy mountains were gradually 



obscured from view. Then the middle distance 
became black and threatening. At the same time 
on the mountain craigs behind heavy clouds im- 
perceptibly settled down, and the great cliff grew 
darker and darker. Blackness seemed to grow all 
round, and the mountain summits with the angry 
clouds upon them looked more and more sombre 
and threatening. Meanwhile all was still and 
noiseless. Then suddenly out of the stillness came 
a rush of air. The poplar trees bent like whips. 
The long shoots of the willow trees lashed 
backwards and forwards. Great drops of rain 
came spitting down. A bright, quick flash darted 
out from the mountain. Then crash came the 
thunder — clap after clap — and torrents of rain. 
Few things in Nature are more impressive than 
a thunderstorm among the mountains. 

When next I visited Harwan in the middle 
of May spring had given way to early summer. 
The mountain-sides were dotted over with clumps 
of yellow barberry and wild pink roses ; clematis 
was in bloom, and honeysuckle was trailing 
from the trees. On the ground were large wild 
geraniums, the big purple iris, white dead nettle, 
yellow potentillas, strawberry blossom, tom-thumbs. 


clover, ferns, speedwell, and primulas. The rocks 
by the stream were often covered with ivy and 
overhung by sprays of pink roses. While on the 
mountain -sides, on the northward -facing slopes, 
the wild apricot, cherry, and wych hazel, and in 
the valley bottom willow, mulberry, and walnut 
were in full leaf. And among the birds were now 
golden orioles, wagtails (white and yellow), king- 
fishers, herons, water-robins, buntings, grey tits, 
wren warblers, paradise fly -catchers, bulbuls, 
thrushes, redstarts, pigeons, doves, and shrikes. 

The morning was cloudy and misty, but again 
with special beauties of its own. Long streaks 
of mist were drifting along the mountain -sides, 
all at precisely the same level. Mahadeo, 15,000 
feet, was at first quite clear and lighted by the sun. 
Then a mist drifted towards it, and rapidly, but by 
almost imperceptible increase, the cloud enveloped 
it. Light misty clouds swirled about the mountain 
as currents and counter -currents seized them. 
Anon the mist in great part cleared away, and 
JNIahadeo was seen peering through the clouds, bold 
and supernaturally high. Then the peak and all 
the mountain-sides were enveloped in dark heavy 
clouds, rain fell, and there seemed every prospect 
of a wet and gloomy day. But all unexpectedly 




rifts again appeared, and Mahadeo was once more 
seen rising composedly above the clouds, the young 
green foliage standing out distinct and bright, and 
each rock sharp and well defined. And so, hour 
after hour, the struggle between cloud and sun- 
shine, between good and evil continued, it being 
impossible to tell at any moment which was more 
likely to prevail. The clouds seemed settling down, 
then a glint of sunshine was seen high on some 
upland lighting the fresh green grass and some 
stray shepherd hut. Finally wet prevailed, and the 
mist settled lower and lower on the valley, the 
rain poured down and a seemingly regular rainy 
day set in. But there was fascination yet in 
watching the mists floating along the mountains, 
forming and dispersing, enshrouding and revealing 
the mountain peaks ; and the green of the little 
valley showed up greener than ever. The mountain- 
sides, usually so brown, were seen to be tinged with 
a delicate shade of green. The poplars, mulberries, 
and chenars at the mouth of the valley had each 
their own especial tint. The rice-fields showed up 
in brilliant emerald. 

Yet after it had appeared to settle down for a 
whole day's rain the mists suddenly cleared away 
from the mountain. The sun broke through the 


clouds and showed up the rounded higher spurs with 
the soft, downy brown of an Oriental carpet, and 
the higher peaks stood out sharp and clear. An 
hour later long level lines of mist appeared and 
swiftly grew thicker, the whole mountain from 
one level upward was once more enveloped in cloud 
which thus gained the final victory. 

Harwan village itself at this time of year was 
strikingly picturesque. It was enshrouded in 
massive clumps of chenar foliage, below which 
were the lighter shades of the willow, mulberry, and 
walnut, and the straight, graceful, white -trunked 
poplars piercing through. Here and there a 
horse-chestnut in full flower lit up the foliage, 
and most beautiful of all were the patches of tall 
irises — dark purple, mauve, and white — which now 
surrounded the village. Numerous water-courses 
rushing through the village lands gave brightness, 
cheeriness, and a sense of coolness ; w^hile the 
crowing of cocks, the twittering of the birds, the 
lowing of cattle, and the neighing of the ponies 
grazing on the rich green grass in the valley bottom, 
and the distant calls of the shepherd boy to the 
flocks of sheep and goats on the mountain, gave 
further animation to the scene. And whether it 



was more entrancing now, or three weeks later 
when the irises were over, but when it was wreathed 
in white roses, it would be difficult to say. Irises 
and roses are the two especial beauties of Kashmir 
villages and Kashmir lanes and hedgerows. And 
I would not like to positively state which was the 
more beautiful — the rich clumps of mauve and 
purple irises surrounding the village with warmth 
and colour in the spring, or the clustering wreaths 
of roses, white and pink, brightening the village 
lands and hedgerows in the summer. 

Only one desire we must feel in regard to these 
villages — that all this natural beauty could not be 
further enhanced by the trim little cottages of rural 
England or the picturesque chalets of Switzerland. 
Every time one sees a Kashmir village and suc- 
cumbs to the charm of all that Nature has done for 
it, one longs to see the squalor, untidiness, and dirt 
of house and man and clothing removed, and justice 
done by man to what Nature has done for him, 

Harwan is not only noted for its natural 
beauty, and as having been the abode of a celebrated 
Buddhist saint : it is also now remarkable as 
possessing a hatchery of English trout, the ordinary 
brown trout, and of Danube trout or huchon ; 




and here can be seen English trout of all sizes up 
to 11 lbs. 

These trout were first placed in the Dachigam 
stream which runs through the valley opening out 
at Harwan ; and now all up this valley ideal 
trout-fishing is given by H.H. the Maharaja to his 
guests. And what more perfect spot for the 
purpose could be found ? Kept as a close preserve 
for two purposes ; firstly, for stag-shooting ; and, 
secondly, to insure the freshness of the water which 
furnishes the water-supply of the whole city of 
Srinagar, it is absolutely quiet and peaceful. 
There are no inhabitants, and no life but wild life ; 
and, except for the superior grandeur of the moun- 
tains on either side, it exactly resembles a High- 
land valley. We see the same clear rushing river, 
here dashing over boulders in a series of rapids, 
and there lying in cool, peaceful pools alongside a 
grassy bank or beneath some overshadowing trees. 
On a cloudy day, when the high mountains are 
shrouded in mist and a gentle rain is falling, you 
might be in Scotland itself. On a fine day, with 
Mahadeo towering 10,000 feet immediately above 
you, and with glimpses of snowy ranges in the 
distance, you have Scotland and something more, ' 

This is the valley especially reserved for the 




sport of Viceroys, and here it was that in the autumn 
of 1906 the Maharaja entertained Lord Minto. 
And well do I remember the intense relief of 
the Viceroy as he turned into the valley and left all 
ceremonials and State business behind, and felt that 
here at least he was in a haven of rest and natural 
enjoyment. The air was clear and bracing, the 
sky cloudless, and the evening sun throwing long 
soothing shadows up the valley. Who could feel a 
care while he fished or hunted stag in a valley 
with more than the beauty and with all the fresh- 
ness of his native land ? 

I have said so much about Harwan and the 
Dachigam valley as they are typical of the prettiest 
parts of rural Kashmir and the side-valleys, but I 
must now return to the description of Srinagar and 
the main valley itself and go back to where we 
left it in the spring. On April 1st, the chief glory 
of the Kashmir spring, peach trees were in full 
blossom, and forming in the landscape little clouds 
of the purest and most delicate pink, and giving it 
an exquisite touch of light and colour. The taller 
and larger pear trees were snow-white masses. 
The pink-tinged apple blossoms, the chenar, and 
walnut leaves were just appearing, and the poplar 



and mulberry leaves showed faint symptoms of 
bursting. We were in the first, most delicate flush 
of early youthful spring. 

A mile from Srinagar, on the way to Gupkar 
and the Dal Lake, the road passes over a gap 
between the Takht-i-Suliman and the range to the 
north. This spot is well known as "The Gap"; 
and as it is perhaps a hundred feet above the valley 
level an extensive view is obtained, on the one hand, 
over the great vale of Kashmir to the snowy Pir 
Panjal range in the background on the south, and 
on the other hand to the Dal Lake, Haramokh, 
and the mountain range, close by on the north. 
There were very few days when either in the 
morning or evening I did not visit this spot, and 
hardly ever did I see the same view. Every 
day there seemed some fresh beauty ; and which 
day in spring, and whether the days in spring were 
more beautiful than the days in autumn, I could 
never satisfy myself. On April 1st, looking south- 
ward, there was first on the sloping foreground an 
almond orchard with a sprinkling of trees in 
white and pink blossom and the remainder in 
young leaf. Then in the valley bottom were 
clumps of willows in the freshest yellowy green ; 
light green wheat-fields ; bunches of chenar trees 




not yet in leaf; broad reaches of the placid river 
glistening in the sunshine, with numerous boats 
gliding gracefully on its surface ; and away over the 
valley were little clusters of villages, with the land 
gradually rising to that range of snowy mountains 
which forms the culminating touch of beauty in 
every Kashmir scene. 

Looking in the opposite direction from the Gap 
towards the Dal Lake was a less extensive, but 
scarcely less attractive scene. On the foreground 
of the gentle slopes towards the lake were tall pear 
trees in fresh white bloom dotted prettily among the 
fields of new green wheat. Away to the left was 
an orchard of peach in the purest and lightest of 
pink. Little hamlets nestled among the fruit trees ; 
and immediately beyond them stretched the still, 
clear lake reflecting in its mirror surface the graceful 
willows and chenar trees by its edge, and the moun- 
tain ranges by which it was encircled. As it seemed 
floating in its midst lay the famous Isle of Chenars 
mirrored again in its glassy surface. By its shore 
stretched the renowned Moghal gardens — the 
Nishat Bagh and the Shalimar Bagh — with their 
grand avenues of chenars sloping to the water's 
edge. Above the far border rose a mountain ridge 
still clothed in snow ; above that again the lofty 



Haramokh ; and away in the extreme distance lay 
the fairy Khagan snows, while on the whole scene 
there swam a purple-bluey haze, growing more purple 
and more blue the more distant it fell, and giving 
to all a softening sense of peace and ease. For 
tenderness of restful beauty this scene is not excelled. 

So far the weather had been exceptionally fine 
and warm for the season, and the rainfall to date 
from the commencement of the year had been 
three inches below the normal ; but now a wet spell 
set in such as one has to expect in the spring in 
Kashmir, which is always very uncertain. On 
April 12th there were 2f inches of rain. The total 
for the year now exceeded the normal by four 
inches. The river rapidly rose ten feet, flooded all 
the low-lying fields, and seriously threatened the 
European quarter ; and, finally, snow fell in 
Srinagar itself. The maximum temperature in the 
shade rose to only 50° while the minimum at 
night fell to 33°. It is always the exceptional 
which happens — in weather at any rate. So this 
must not be expected every year. But something 
else exceptional will occur whatever year we choose, 
and there is little use in describing a normal year, 
for no such year ever comes in real life. 



On the road into Kashmir very serious breaks 
were made by the rain and by the melting snow and 
the mud floods which it brought down. Whole 
stretches of road were completely carried away and 
wiped out of existence. Bridges were broken ; 
and so dangerous were the falling boulders, that 
one European was knocked straight into the Jhelum 
River and drowned, and several natives were 
badly injured. The dak bungalows were crammed 
with travellers rolling up from behind, and we 
subsequently heard of the misery they suffered from 
overcrowded rooms, from the never-ending rolling 
of the thunder, and the incessant pelting of the rain. 
The beauties of Kashmir cannot be attained with- 
out suffering, and the suffering on the road up is 
often considerable. 

A hard -worked member of the Government 
of India came from Calcutta to spend a ten-days' 
holiday with us in the middle of this deluge, and as 
day after day of his holiday went by with nothing 
but rain, our pride in the glories of Kashmir sank 
lower and lower, and we feared he would go back 
to give the country but an evil reputation. But the 
final day of his stay redeemed all, and for that 
single day he was good enough to say he would have 
come the whole way from Calcutta. We drove 



out along the shores of the Dal Lake to the Nishat 
Bagh, and anything more exquisitely lovely than 
the combination of the freshness of the young spring 
green, with the whiteness of the snow now low 
down on the mountain -sides with the blue sky, 
the brilliant sunshine, the dreamy purply haze, the 
mirror lake, the yellow mustard fields, and the 
clouds of pink and white fruit blossom now in its 
perfection, this earth can surely nowhere show. 

The lake was full from the recent rain, and 
lapped up to the edge of the garden. On either 
side of the gateway were masses of Kashmir lilac. 
Stretching up the mountain -side, on either side 
of the line of fountains and waterfalls which 
flowed down from the upper end of the garden, 
was a long avenue of massive chenar trees just 
freshly tinted with budding foHage, and at the 
sides and by the entrance were peach, and pear, 
and cherry in brilliant bloom. Slowly we ascended 
the avenue, and then from the top looked down 
between the great chenar trees, over the cascades 
falling to the lake, over the smooth green turf, 
over the clumps of purple iris, over the white 
cherry blossom and the mauve lilac ; to the still 
waters of the lake ; to the willows and poplars along 
its edge ; to the fort of Hari Parbat ; and then on to 




the radiant snows now glistening more brightly, 
and looking more ethereal and lovely than ever 
before. Spring is beautiful everywhere. Spring 
is more beautiful in Kashmir than anywhere else, 
and in a Kashmir spring this was the most beautiful 
day of all. 

Yet another attractive spot near Srinagar is 
the site of the original city founded by Asoka at 
Pandrathan, three miles distant on the Islamabad 
road. Here at the end of a spur running down 
from the mountains and jutting out to meet a 
bend in the river, stands the remains of an immense 
monolith lingam on the levelled edge of the spur, 
eighty feet or so above the river. Immediately 
beneath is a majestic bend of the river, and one 
April evening when I visited the sight I looked 
out from the raised plateau up two glistening 
reaches, bordered by fresh green grass and over- 
hung by graceful willows and poplars in their 
newest foliage. The wheat-fields on the opposite 
bank were a brilliant emerald, and the fields of 
glowing yellow mustard and young linseed inter- 
spersed with scarlet poppies gave a relieving 
touch of colour. All the valley was dotted over 
with picturesque hamlets half-hidden in clumps of 




willow and over - towering chenar trees. The 
recent floods gave a lake-like appearance to the 
middle distance. On the right the temple on the 
Takht-i-Suliman formed a graceful feature in the 
scene ; and from there completely round the semi- 
circle to the distant left stretched the dreamy 
snowy mountains, hazy immediately under the sun, 
but white and distinct when the evening sun 
struck full upon them. A more fitting site for 
worship could hardly be found. 

In full summer the Kashmir valley is, perhaps, 
in its least interesting condition. The snow has 
nearly melted from the mountains. They are often 
hidden by heat-haze or dust. The fruit blossoms 
are all over. The yellow mustard and the blue 
linseed in the fields have gone to seed. The green 
of the trees has lost its freshness ; and the prevail- 
ing tones are heavy greens and browns. The 
weather too is sultry. The thermometer rises to 
95° or 97° in the shade. A heavy, lethargic feeling 
oppresses one. Mosquitoes appear in swarms. 
And by the end of June every one who can flees 
to Gulmarg, to Pahlgam in the Lidar valley, to 
Sonamarg in the Sind, to Gurais and to the 
numerous other cool mountain resorts. 




Bat early in September the valley renews its 
charms and visitors return. The atmosphere has 
been freshened and cooled by the rains which, 
though they fall lightly in the valley itself, are often 
heavy on the surrounding mountains. The ripe 
rice-fields show an expanse of green and yellow 
often two or three miles in extent. The villages, 
dirty and untidy at close quarters, it is true, but 
nestling among the chenars, willows, poplars, 
walnuts, and mulberries, show as entrancing islands 
amidst the sea of rice. Ponies browse among the 
marshes up to their knees in water ; and groups of 
cattle graze along the grassy edge of the streams 
and water-ducts. 

The sun is still powerful in the daytime, and the 
sky usually bright and clear. But the monsoon 
will often make a few final efforts. One such day 
I note when voluminous masses of cloud rolled up 
from behind the Pir Panjal to a height of twenty- 
five or thirty thousand feet, their westward edges 
aglow from the setting sun, and showing clear and 
distinct against the background of pinky light blue 
sky, while the great main volume remained dark, 
heavy, and sombre, with now and then a spit of 
lightning flashing out, and on the far side, away 
from the setting sun, threatening tentacles stretched 



out across the valley in unavailing effort to reach 
the mountains on the northern side. Under these 
mighty monsoon masses even the great mountains 
looked dwarfed and puny. It was a great and 
final effort of that stupendous natural phenomenon 
which bears the waters of the Indian Ocean to 
beat upon the Himalaya ; and as an omen that 
the monsoon was now over, the sky behind the 
storm-clouds was intensely clear and tranquil, and 
the moon slowly ascended in undisturbed serenity. 

And the rainy season being finished there now 
commenced almost the most charming time of all, 
not, indeed, with the freshness of spring, but with 
more certainty of continual brightness and light, 
and more vigour and strength in the air, and above 
all, with that warmth and richness of colour in the 
foliage which makes an autumn in Kashmir unique. 
Towards the end of October the green of the 
immense masses of chenar slowly turns to purple, 
red, and yellow, and every intervening shade. The 
poplars, mulberries, and apricots add each their 
quota of autumnal beauty. The valley and the 
river edge are resplendent in the gorgeous colour- 
ing. And beautiful as is the spring, I was tempted 
to think that even more exquisitely lovely still 
was the bright autumnal day when we drifted 





down the river in our house-boat, when all the 
chenars along the river bank were loaded with the 
richest and most varied colouring, when the first 
fresh fall of snow on the mountains was glistening 
in the radiant sunshine, and there ran through the 
air that restful sense of certainty that this was no 
hurried pleasure snatched from a stormy season, 
but that for day after day and week after week 
one might count on the same brilliant sunshine, 
the same clear, blue sky, and daily increasing 
crispness, freshness, and vigour in the air. 

The great broad reaches in the river, glistening 
in the sunlight and fringed with the rich autumnal 
foliage, were superlatively beautiful. Shadipur, at 
the junction of the Sind River, where there is a 
little temple on an island and hoary old chenars 
drooping over it to the water's surface, was a dream 
of all that is most lovely. And the Manasbal 
Lake, so fresh and deep and clear, set like a jewel 
among the mountains, with clumps and avenues of 
these same red and purple foliaged trees upon its 
edge, and reflecting in its surface the white snowy 
range of the distant Pir Panjal, was the supreme 
gem of all Kashmir. All these are beauties which 
one cannot describe, for whatever one may say, 
the reality must ever remain more beautiful than 



the picture. But perhaps by the unison of pen 
and brush some faint impression of the loveliness 
of a Kashmir autumn may yet have been conveyed. 

This season to the sportsman also is the most 
enjoyable. For now come in the duck and geese 
from far-away Siberia, halting here for a time in 
the lakes and marshes on their way to India. I 
have already described a duck-shoot in spring. In 
the autumn there is still finer shooting, for the 
duck have come in fresh and are in greater 
numbers than on their return journey. As I have 
already said, the Maharaja most hospitably places 
at the disposal of the Resident the shooting on 
the Hokrar Lake and marsh, which affords some 
of the best duck-shooting in the world, and it was 
here that Lord Minto and party shot over 1500 
duck in one day in 1906. 

Last year we had our first shoot on October 4th. 
We rode for six miles in the fresh morning air 
and brilliant sunshine to the edge of the lake, 
where the shikaris and boatmen were awaiting us. 
Over the reeds and over the open expanse of water 
beyond there was that glorious view of the distantly 
encircling mountains which I have before described. 
The lower slopes were at this season a reddish 



pink which merged into the rich purply blue of 
the higher and more distant portion of the range. 
Soft fleecy clouds and a hazy blue in the sky gave 
a dreamy tone to the scene. Many kinds of water- 
fowl were lazily disporting themselves on the water 
and among the reeds. The surface was often 
covered with numerous flat, round leaves and pure 
white waxy water-lilies with rich yellow centres. 

Through these we were paddled swiftly to the 
butts, which were skilfully hidden among the reeds, 
and here amid clouds of mosquitoes, dragon-flies, 
and gnats, we awaited the first shot to be fired by 
the occupant of the farthest butt. The sun beat 
powerfully down. All was still, and drowsy, and 
silent, save for the drone of the flies and the 
occasional " quack, quack ! " of the ducks paddling 
unsuspiciously on the lake. 

At last a distant shot was heard, and then a 
suppressed roar, as of breakers on a far-off shore. 
Then from the direction of the shot a black cloud 
arose and advanced rapidly upon us. The roar 
increased, and in a few seconds the whole sky was 
covered with a whirling, swishing, whizzing flight 
of ducks. Thousands and thousands of them : 
flashing past from right to left, from left to right, 
backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards. 



in bewildering multitudes. For the moment one's 
breath was absolutely taken away. There was such 
a swish and swirr it was impossible to aim. Then 
as the first wild rush was over it became easier to 
be deliberate, and duck after duck fell to my 
companions' guns. 

After a quarter of an hour or so a lull occurred. 
In the distance, flights of duck were seen circling 
high in the air, but none came near. A lazy 
interval ensued. The sun beat down with unex- 
pected force. Perspiration poured down head and 
neck. Dragon-flies, blue and red, large and small, 
with gauze-like wings and brilliant bodies, floated 
swiftly but noiselessly among the reeds. The 
purring of the crickets, the occasional twitter of 
birds, the swishing of high flights of duck far out 
of reach, the call of a goose and the bang of a 
distant gun at intervals broke the silence ; but 
otherwise all was wrapped in dreamy noonday still- 
ness. Then, of a sudden, another succession of 
flights of duck came whizzing past, and as fast 
as we could fire the gun was put to the shoulder. 
Another lull followed, only to be succeeded by more 
flights, and so on through the day. At 1.30, by 
previous arrangement, we stopped for lunch and to 
give the duck an opportunity of settling, then 



renewed the shooting till nightfall. At the end of 
the day Colonel Edwards, the Residency Surgeon, 
had himself shot 203, and others had shot well 
over the hundred. 

From this time onward, on three or four days 
in each month, the duck-shooting on this famous 
lake continues. The weather now gets gradually 
colder, till by December there are sixteen degrees 
of frost. All the leaves have now left the trees. 
The grass is quite brown. But the days are nearly 
always fine and clear ; and though there will be 
thick ice and long icicles in the early morning, by 
ten or eleven all the ice not in the shade has 
disappeared, the air is pleasantly warm, and there 
is seldom any wind. 

Christmas brings a round of festivities, dances, 
dinners, and children's parties, for even in the winter 
as many as seventy or eighty will assemble at a 
dance, and occasional outside travellers or sports- 
men drop in all through the winter. After Christ- 
mas a change in weather sets in. Clouds bank up 
and snow or rain falls. January and February are 
the worst months in the year. 

But just before leaving the valley this last year 
I had one further attempt to shoot a Kashmir 
stag. Six miles out from Srinagar, up the valley, 




we had a little camp on the edge of the river — a 
lovely spot in summer when the rich foliage over- 
hangs the water, and when the grassy banks are 
green and fresh, and the river is full up to the 
lip ; but now when the trees were bare, the banks 
brown and bleak, and the water at its lowest, an un- 
inviting-looking spot. Moreover, the sky was over- 
cast and threatening. Women who came to draw 
water from the river were pale and shivering. Our 
servants were huddled up with the cold. A raw 
wind whistled down the valley, and snow threatened 
on the higher mountain. 

This latter was precisely what I wanted, for it 
would drive the stag down to the lower ridges 
when I would be stalking next day. At four in 
the morning, therefore, I rose, and after a solid early 
breakfast mounted my faithful but naughty Tibetan 
pony, and, accompanied by a guide, rode for seven 
miles through the darkness and frosty but invigorat- 
ing air to the foot of the hills, where the two 
shikaris awaited me. 

Like their class, they were hard, keen-looking 
men, accustomed to live on the mountain-side, to 
weather hardship and exposure, and live with Nature 
and wild animals — an altogether different type from 
tlie crafty townsman or indolent dwellers on boats. 



Rah em Sheikh, the chief, was a grizzled old man, 
with keen, far-seeing eyes, tough physique, and 
a grave, earnest demeanour as if the business of 
his life was of the most serious. This, indeed, 
as I have already said, is a special trait of head 
shikaris all India over ; and during viceregal visits 
to Native States I have never been able to decide 
which takes himself most seriously — the head 
shikari or the European caterer. Both look upon 
the Viceroy, the Chief, and the Resident, in the 
way of children who are to be indulged. They 
have to be amused and fed. They no doubt have 
unimportant business of their own. But the really 
serious business in this life is — to the shikari to 
find game, and to the caterer to provide food. 
Things would rub along somehow or other without 
a Viceroy ; but how would life be without the head 
shikari to show the stag, or the caterer to produce 
meat and drink ? 

Knowing the point of view of head shikaris I 
placed myself, therefore, with child-like but mis- 
placed confidence m his hand. But, alas I snow 
had not fallen on the higher mountains. The 
clouds had cleared away, and the stags must have 
remained on the distant peaks — many miles 
away and thousands of feet higher. Two days 



of hard climbing and careful search produced no 

On the third day, rising early and looking out 
of my tent, I saw a perfectly clear sky and the 
ground covered thick with hoar frost ; a sharp 
crisp nip was in the air, the thermometer registered 
16° Fahr., and away across the glistening reach 
in the river appeared a rose -pink range of 
mountains showing up sharply against the clear 
blue sky. Let the reader imagine a frosty morning 
in the Thames valley. Let him imagine, what we 
never have in England, a really clear blue sky. 
And then, filling up the distant end of one of its 
most beautiful reaches, let him imagine a lofty 
range of rose-coloured mountains ; and he wiW 
then have a picture of the view from my camp 
at sunrise on the .January morning. 

Mounting my pony, I rode off in the now 
radiant sunshine to another hill-side nine miles 
distant. The frosty morning air at first nipped my 
ears and fingei's, but the hard galloping soon sent 
the blood tingling through my vehis, and in little 
over an hour I again joined the shikaris. With bated 
breath and significant glances at the mountain-side, 
they informed me that they had seen seven hinds 
and two stags, though tlie latter were both small. 



I dismounted, and left the wicked little Tibetan 
with his head well buried in a bundle of grass ; 
and then with a coolie to carry my tiffin, overcoat, 
and rifle, started up the hill-side. One quickly 
becomes fit in such a climate. This was my third 
day out, and now I climbed the mountain almost 
as easily as the shikaris themselves. What on the 
first day was a decided effort was now a scarcely 
perceptible strain. Perhaps, too, the greater 
expectation of finding a stag had something to do 
with the increased elasticity with which I ascended 
the mountain. Anyhow, taking off my coat, as 
with the exertion of climbing and in the brilliant 
sunshine it was now really hot, I was on the 
summit of the ridge 3000 feet above the valley, 
almost without noticing the climb. 

At our feet on the opposite side lay a cosy 
little side-valley with villages nestling among the 
chenar and mulberry trees. Behind us lay the 
broad main valley with the great river gliding 
through it; and away in the distance the rugged 
Pir Panjal mountains were glistening in the noon- 
day sun. 

The scenery was perfect. But again no stags 
were seen. Till dark we scoured the mountain- 
side, but all we saw were the tracks of stags — or 



may be hinds — leading away to the higher 

Then I had to hurry back to camp, and the next 
day to Srinagar, to prepare for a long journey down 
to Calcutta for the very dull object of giving evi- 
dence to a Royal Commission on Decentralisation. 

The cycle of the seasons has been completed ; 
and the aspect of the valley under the varying 
conditions of spring and summer, autumn and 
Avinter, has been depicted. In another chapter I 
will describe the means and methods of travel. 



I HAVE known Kashmir for twenty-one years, and 
ever since I have known it people have said it is 
getting spoilt. " It is not now what it used to be " 
is so often said. When the cart-road was being- 
built every one said it would be spoilt. And now, 
when the construction of a railway is in contempla- 
tion, exactly the same remark is made. The 
impression conveyed is that the pleasures of travel 
in Kashmir are surely and steadily deteriorating. 
And this, no doubt, is true in certain aspects. 
Supplies are dearer. Coolies demand higher 
wages. The visitor disposed to solitude more 
frequently encounters his fellow Britisher. These 
are decided drawbacks, and the visitor who 
telegraphs to Danjhibhoy for a tonga, to Nedou's 
for a room in the hotel, and to Cockburn's for a 
house-boat, and has simply to pay his fare and his 




hotel bill, no doubt pines for the virgin time of 
Kashmir travel before the rattle of the tongas or 
the tooting of the motor car was heard in the 

Yet I doubt if all was bliss in those "good old 
days." Certainly Moorcroft, the first Englishman 
to visit Kashmir, had no very comfortable time, 
and must often in his turn have pined for a good 
hotel, a clean room, and a decent dinner — and, who 
knows, for a game of golf? Moorcroft visited 
Kashmir in 1823, and first had enormous difficulty 
in obtaining from Ranjit Singh, the ruler of the 
Punjab, to whom Kashmir was then subject, leave 
to come to Kashmir at all. He arrived there from 
the north in the autumn, and had fresh difficulty 
in obtaining permission to remain there for the 
winter. At tlie quarters he occupied he was 
"beset by crowds of people who not only filled 
the garden, but also came in boats." He was 
pursued wherever he went by inquisitive crowds, 
by importunate beggars, and by suspicious officials. 
When he wished to make short excursions from 
Srinagar objections were at once raised. When he 
was at length allowed to leave for the Lolab, 
officials were appointed to accompany him "to 
watch his proceedings and check iiiquisitiveness." 


And when he finally left Kashmir for the Punjab 
by the Jhelum valley he was stopped by a small 
semi-independent chief near Uri, who demanded 
Rs. 15,000 as customs duty on his caravan, and as 
Moorcroft refused to pay more than Rs. 500 he 
was compelled to return to Srinagar and reach the 
Punjab by another route. 

These certainly were not the halcyon days of 
Kashmir travel. But I suppose there must have 
been an intermediate time between then and now 
when travelling in Kashmir was perfection to those 
who had time enough at their disposal to " march " 
in. In those delightful times the traveller pitched 
his little camp wherever he wished. Grain was 
ridiculously cheap. Fowls were considered dear at 
twopence each. Coolies were thankful enough to 
get any payment at all. There were no game 
laws or game licences, so that the sportsman could 
shoot to his hearts content. The number of 
visitors for the year was restricted to 100, so that 
each had 700 or 800 square miles to himself, and 
there was no need of dress clothes, white shirts, or 
Ascot dresses. 

When I first visited Kashmir in the autumn of 

1887 its glory had already begun to depart, though 

as regards simplicity of travelling my methods 




were of the simplest. I had no other clothes but 
what I stood in, and only the under portion of 
these were of European origin. All my outer 
clothes, including my boots, were worn out long 
before I reached Kashmir, and I was accordingly 
clothed in a long Central Asian robe and high 
native boots, for I was at the end of a journey of 
nearly four thousand miles from Peking. I had 
crossed — and was the first European to accomplish 
Ihe feat — the Mustagh Pass, 19,000 feet high, into 
Baltistan ; and the " Pass " being nothing else than 
a hard ice slope and a rocky precipice, down which 
I and my five servants and coolies had to let 
ourselves by means of turbans and waist-clothes 
tied together, I had been able to carry with me 
little even of the scanty baggage I had brought up 
to the other side of the Pass. I had indeed only 
a roll of bedding, which was thrown down the 
precipice, and a big kettle. I had no tent and no 
money ! 1 had slept in the open from one side of 
the Himalayas to the other, and my funds were 
entirely exhausted, so that when I landed in 
Kashmir territory I had to borrow money from the 
Governor of Baltistan, Pandit Rada Kishen Kol, 
a very popular and respected official who is still in 
tlie Maharaja's service, and is now Chief Judge. 



Simplicity of travel was, then, at least possible 
twenty years ago, and I managed, after crossing the 
Pass, to get along with only one servant who 
cooked, performed every function of the numerous 
servants we employ in India, and carried a load 
himself in emergency. But he was the most faith- 
ful, and my favourite of all the servants I have 
ever had. His name was Shukar Ali, and I must 
ask my reader's indulgence for a digression to 
describe him. I picked him up in Yarkand, in 
Chinese Turkestan, but he was a native of Ladak. 
He was the most cheery, happy-go-lucky, easy- 
going man, who ever proved a good servant in 
spite of his carelessness. Always laughing, always 
chaffing with the pony -men or coolies, always 
losing something vitally necessary, but always 
ready to do the hardest and most dangerous piece 
of work when the crucial moment arrived, he 
^ was the only Ladaki who dared to cross the 
Mustagh Pass with me, and but for one incident 
I would have a most grateful recollection of his 
services then. That incident I have often since 
reminded him of. After crossing the Pass we had 
to cross a very full and rapid stream flowing 
straight out of a glacier. Immense blocks of ice 
were breaking off the glacier and floating down 


the stream. The bottom was also partly ice and 
partly boulder. Shukar Ali, with his usual readi- 
ness, volunteered to carry me across this stream on 
his back. But in mid-stream he slipped. I was 
precipitated into the icy water, while Shukar Ali, 
in his frantic efforts to regain his own footing, 
unknowingly kept pressing me under water. We 
both eventually gained the opposite bank all right. 
But I had no change of clothes, and every stitch 
I had on was wringing wet with ice-cold water. 

When, two years later. Government sent me to 
explore all the northern frontier of Kashmir from 
Ladak and the Karakoram Pass to the Pamirs and 
Hunza, I again sought out Shukar Ali; and yet 
a third time, when I was sent on a political 
mission to Chinese Turkestan and the Pamirs in 
1890-91. On each of these occasions he rendered 
unfailing service, and once both he and I were 
nearly drowned in an avalanche. We had been 
hewing our way up the steep slopes of an ice pass 
in a snowstorm, when suddenly out of the snow- 
clouds above us we heard a roar like thunder 
approaching nearer and nearer. We could not 
run if we would, for we were on an ice slope. We 
could only await our doom, for we knew it was 
an avalanche. Ilut with a mighty rush it crashed 




past a few paces in front of us, and we were 

After 1891 I did not see Shukar Ali for 
seventeen years, for my travels never took me to 
that frontier again. But I heard of him from 
Dr. Sven Hedin who employed him in Tibet, 
and who told me of the wonderful tales which the 
imaginative Shukar Ali related of the journeys we 
had made together. And last summer the dear 
old man suddenly appeared at the Residency. 
He had heard that I was now Resident, and had 
walked 240 miles across the mountains to see me, 
and he presented himself wearing the identical coat 
I had given him seventeen years ago. He kept 
jumping up and down, first kissing my feet, then 
touching my coat, then salaaming, and all the time 
ejaculating an unceasing flow of speech, calling 
me by every affectionate term. Then from under 
numerous folds of his clothing he produced a 
wooden bowl, a bag full of sweets, a pair of goat 
horns for my wife and myself, and a marvellous 
collection of showy-looking stones which he had 
picked up in Tibet for my little girl. 

He remained with me for a few weeks. 
I gave him something to keep him comfort- 
able at home, but which I am sure in his good 



nature he will let his relations squeeze out of him, 
and then I sent him off back to Ladak. But before 
he left I asked the Maharaja to give him an order 
exempting him from service in his village. His 
Highness, with his usual kindness, readily acceded. 
An order was made out with the Maharaja's own 
signature attached, and at a garden-party at the 
Residency Shukar Ali was had up and presented 
with the order. His Highness addressed him in 
a most kindly manner, and on the following 
day presented him in Durbar with a shawl of 

Poor Shukar Ali left with many tearful fare- 
well expressions, and a few weeks later I received 
from him the following letter : — 

Sir — I reached very well home, with very felt happy and 
found all my poor family very well and showed the all 
kindly of your they got very glad, and we all family 
thankfully to you to remember us so much, to little people 
and my all friends got very glad too, they said thank you, 
and hope you would not be angry with this English written, 
please you pardon for this, and could not write myself and 
could not get other munshi write you, because and found 
Rassul, he was my old friend and let him write this letter, 
please give my salaam to Mem Sahib and Baby Baby Sahib. 
— Your obedient servant Shukar Ali 

from poor l^assul plenty salaam, 

the mark of Shukar Ali 0, 



All this, however, is a digression, and I have 
to describe the normal modes of travel of the 
present day. Srinagar is 196 miles distant from 
the railway at Rawal Pindi, and is connected with 
it by a good cart-road — good, that is in its normal 
condition, but excessively bad after heavy rain, 
when at places the whole mountain -side slides 
down with the road into the river. The usual 
mode of conveyance is a tonga, a very common 
form of vehicle in the Indian "hills." It has two 
wheels, is drawn by a pair of ponies, has four seats 
back to back, and carries a mountain of luggage 
piled up on the splash-boards and on the roof. 
The ponies, when the season is not crowded and 
the road is good, gallop at full speed, and are 
changed every five or six miles. In the full part 
of the season, which generally coincides with the 
heaviest fall of rain, with much beating, pulling, 
and shouting they can scarcely be induced to reach 
a trot, and may think themselves lucky if they find 
a change at the end of their stage. 

Other means of conveyance for which extra 
charge is made are landaus and victorias. These, 
though more comfortable, are heavier for the 
ponies, and are more difficult to manipulate over 
bad places in the rainy season. 



Spare baggage and servants can be brought up 
in the ordinary Indian ckka which, with one pony 
without changes, takes six to eight days to reach 
Srinagar ; or in bullock carts which take fourteen 

Tongas will take two, three, four or more days 
according to the length of the day, the nature of 
the road, and the disposition of the traveller. The 
tonga carrying the English mail, travelling almost 
continuously, covers the distance in thirty-six 
hours. In the long summer days travellers, start- 
ing early, can accomplish the journey in two days. 

Every fourteen miles or so is a dak bungalow, 
where for the payment of one rupee a furnished 
room is provided, and on further payment meals 
may be obtained at any time, but " bedding " must 
always be taken, as nothing but the bare bed is 

The stages from Rawal Pindi (1790 feet) at 
which these bungalows may be found, are :— 

Tret 25 1 miles 25 J miles 

Simnybank (6000 feet) (for 

Murree, 2 miles distant). 11 J „ 36f „ 

Kohala (2000 feet) . . 27i „ 64^ „ 

Dulai (2180 feet) . . 12 „ 761 

Domel (2320 feet) . . 9 „ 851 „ 

Garhi (2750 feet) . . 13^ „ 98i „ 



Chakoti (3780 feet) . 
Uri (4425 feet) . 
Rampur (4825 feet) . 
Baramula (5150 feet) 
Patan (5200 feet) . 
Srinagar (5250 feet) . 

21 miles 119f miles 

131 „ 133i „ 

13 „ 146i „ 

16 „ 162J „ 

16i „ 178f „ 

Hi „ 196i „ 

The road is usually open all the year round 
except in January, February, and part of March, 
when it is liable to be blocked by snow over the 
IMurree hill and between Rampur and Baramula. 
In such emergencies the alternative route by 
Abbotabad may be used, and the traveller must 
make up his mind to walk the few miles of bad 
road near Rampur. 

Instead of going all the way by road, boat may 
be taken at Baramula for Srinagar. This, though 
longer, is much more comfortable and enjoyable. 
The time occupied is from two to three days. 

At Srinagar there is no dak bungalow, but an 
hotel — Nedou's — which is open the whole year 
round. Srinagar is the central starting-point for 
all expeditions. Here house-boats, dunga-boats, 
camp equipage, and all the paraphernalia of 
Kashmir travel may be obtained, and shikaris and 
servants engaged. House-boats are not indigenous 
to Kashmir. They were introduced by Mr. M. 



T. Kennard some twenty years ago, but now they 
may be numbered by hundreds. Some are perma- 
nently occupied by Europeans, who live in them 
nearly the whole year round for years together, 
but most are let out at from Rs. 70 to Rs. 100 
per mensem for the season. In midsummer they 
are hot abodes, but they form a most convenient 
and luxurious mode of travel. Each would con- 
tain, probably, a couple of sitting-rooms with fire- 
places, bedrooms, and bath-rooms, and with a cook- 
boat attached for cooking and servants, the traveller 
launches forth complete, and either drifts lazily 
down the river to the many attractive spots along 
its banks, and to the Wular Lake, or else is towed 
upwards to Islamabad. The house-boat likewise 
forms a very convenient base from which short 
expeditions into the mountains can be made. 

Dungas and dunga house-boats are not so 
luxurious and commodious as the fully developed 
house-boat ; but they are lighter, they travel 
quicker, and they go up shallow tributaries where 
the larger boat would stick. They are also less 
expensive. The former have only loose matting 
for walls ; the walls of the latter are wooden. 

For getting about the river in Srinagar itself 
the still lighter shikara or ordinary paddle-boat 




is used, paddled by two to eight men according 
to the size. House-boats and dunga house-boats 
require a crew of six to twelve men. Dungas carry 
a family in the stern who work the boat. Paddles, 
poling, and hauHng are the means of progression. 

Quite good shops for European stores and 
articles are now springing up in Srinagar. Cox 
& Co. and the Punjab Banking Co. have branches 
there, and Cockburn's Agency do every kind of 
agency work, engage boats and servants, and let 
out tents, camp furniture, etc. There are also 
many respectable native firms who do the same — 
of whom, perhaps, the best is JNIohamed Jan, because 
he does not pester and importune the visitor in the 
way that most others do, and really render life in 
Srinagar intolerable. 

There is a large choice of expeditions from 
Srinagar to points of interest, which will be 
described in detail in a later chapter. First in the 
immediate vicinity there are picnics to be made to 
the Dal Lake, to the two Moghal gardens, — the 
Nishat Bagh and the Shalimar Bagh, — and to the 
beautiful camping ground of the Nasim Bagh. 
These are expeditions which can be made in a 
single afternoon if necessary. 



Of more remote tours the favourites are : — up 
the river to Islamabad and the beautiful Achibal 
spring and garden ; to the clear crystal springs of 
Vernag, one of the many sources of the Jhelum ; to 
the famous ruins of Martand which occupy the 
grandest site for a temple of any in the world ; to 
the Lidar valley, Pahlgam, the Kolahoi glacier, and 
the caves of A mar Nath. Islamabad is the starting- 
point for both the Lidar valley and Martand, and 
here the house-boat may be left. Islamabad, thirty- 
four miles distant, may also be reached by a road 
which, though unmetalled, is in dry weather quite 
good. I have left Srinagar in a motor car at 8.45, 
have spent over an hour going round Islamabad, 
have eaten lunch under the glorious chenar trees at 
Bijbehara, and have been home again at Srinagar 
by 3.15 the same afternoon. 

Down the river are equally delightful tours 
to be made. At Shadipur, at the junction of 
the Sind River with the .Jhelum River, there is a 
charming grassy camping -ground under chenar 
trees. Ganderbal is a few miles higher up the Sind 
Uiver, and forms the base for expeditions to (1) the 
Wangat ruins and the Gangarbal Lake, an exquisite 
torquoise- coloured sheet of water reposing im- 
mediately beneath the great cliff and glaciers of the 



Haramokh mountain ; and (2) the beautiful Sind 
valley with its grand mountain scenery, and the 
charming camping-ground of Sonamarg (the golden 
meadow) also under towering mountain masses 
and close to glaciers. Up this valley also lies the 
road to the Zoji-La Pass on the far side of which 
branch off roads to Baltistan, on the one hand, 
with its fine ibex-shooting ground, immense glacier 
region, and the second highest mountain in the 
world ; and on the other to Ladak with its Buddhist 
monasteries perched on any inaccessible rocky 
pinnacle that can be found, and Leh, the meeting- 
place of caravans from Lhasa and from Central 
Asia — a most quaint and picturesque little town 
embedded among bare, sun-baked mountains which 
has been the starting-point of two journeys I have 
made across the dreary, lofty Karakoram Pass 
(18,500 feet) to Turkestan and to the Pamirs. 

From Shadipur, at the junction of the Sind 
with the Jhelum, the next expedition to be made 
is to the Wular Lake and Bandipur, from whence 
ascends immediately the long and numerous zigzags 
to Tragbal, a favourite camping-ground amid the 
pines, and to the Tragbal Pass (12,600 feet), from 
whence a magnificent view of Nanga Parbat 
(26,600 feet) may be seen, though I am bound to 



say that I have never seen it myself in spite of 
having crossed the Pass six times on the way to, or 
returning from, Gilgit and the Hunza frontier which 
lies in this direction. It is by this route, too, that 
sportsmen proceeding to shoot markhor in Astor, or 
ibex and bear in Tilail and Gurais, make their way, 
as also the few who obtain permission to shoot Ovis 
Poll on the Pamirs. For myself the Tragbal and 
Bandipur have many welcome associations, for it 
is here that I have finished two great exploring 
expeditions, and on a third occasion returned there 
after a stay of two and a half years hard service on 
the Hunza and Chitral frontier. It is impossible 
to convey the delicious sense of relief the traveller 
feels in descending from the Pass, in leaving behind 
all the rigors of severe mountain travel and intense 
cold, and with each easy step downward feeling the 
air growing warmer and warmer, and at length 
reaching the lake throwing himself into an arm- 
chair in a comfortable house-boat, and then glid- 
ing smoothly over the placid lake with the evening 
sunlight flooding the beautiful valley, and a 
soothing sense suffusing him at difficulties sur- 
mounted, at hardships past, and at present relaxa- 
tion of body, mind, and purpose. 




Entering now into greater detail, first among the 
places of interest to be described must be Srinagar, 
the City of the Sun, the capital of the country, 
and the dwelling - place of 120,000 inhabitants. 
From both the sanitary and the sesthetic point of 
view I am always disappointed that Srinagar was 
not placed either on the plateau of Pariansipura 
in the centre of the valley, or on the plateau just 
above Pampur on the west. The former was 
chosen by the great king Lalataditya for the site 
of his capital, of which the ruins remain to this day. 
It is a karewa just opposite the junction of the 
Sind River with the Jhelum, high and dry above 
all floods and marshes. And it stands well away 
from the mountain ranges on either hand, right 
out in the centre of the valley, so that all the 
higher peaks and the complete circle of snowy 



mountains may be seen. A nobler site could not 
be found. The Pampur plateau has the like 
advantage of being high and dry and healthy, and 
of being sufficiently raised above the ordinary level 
of the valley to command views right over the fields 
and marshes and wooded hamlets ; and it also 
immediately overhangs the river, and commands a 
view of the most picturesque reaches in its course. 

Either of these sites would have been preferable 
to the present low-lying situation amid the swamps, 
so muggy in summer and so chill in winter. Yet 
this site has attractions of its own, and built as it 
is on either side of the river, with canals and 
waterways everywhere intersecting it, and with 
the snowy ranges filUng the background of every 
vista, the city of Sr in agar must be ranked among 
the most beautiful in the East, and in its peculiar 
style unique. 

The distinguishing feature is the combination of 
picturesque but rickety wooden houses, of mosques 
and Hindu temples, of balconied shops, of mer- 
chants' houses and the royal palaces with the broad 
sweeping river and the white mountain background. 

Perhaps Srinagar never looks more beautiful than 
in the fulness of spring towards the end of April, 
when the Maharaja arrives from Jammu and enters 




his summer capital by boat. On such occasions 
the Resident and his staff, all the State officials, 
and many of the Europeans resident in Srinagar, go 
by boat to meet His Highness some distance below 
the city. The Maharaja arrived this year on the 
most perfect day in spring. Before the time of 
his arrival the river was alive with craft of every 
description, from the Resident's state barge of 
enormous length, and manned by about fifty rowers 
dressed in scarlet, to light shikaras, and even two 
motor boats. As we emerged from the town 
the banks on either side were covered with fresh 
green grass. The poplars and some magnificent 
chenar trees overhanging the river were in their 
freshest foliage. And coming up a long reach of 
the broad glistening river was the Maharaja's 
flotilla, with their long lines of red and of blue 
oarsmen giving colour to the scene. 

The two flotillas joined and slowly made their 
way through the city. On either side were piled 
up masses of wooden houses, some low, some high, 
some leaning to one side, some to the other, — none 
straight and no two alike. All were crowded with 
people craning at the windows to see the proces- 
sion. From many hung shawls, the distinctive 
decoration of the city for state occasions. And 



most striking and most beautiful feature of all, 
and only to be seen at this time of year and in 
Kashmir, the earth-covered roofs were now covered 
with fresh green grass, with delicate mauve irises, 
and in some few cases with the gorgeous scarlet 
Kashmir tulip. A more beautiful object than that 
of a little mosque on the edge of the river with 
its chalet-like roof covered with this blaze of 
scarlet, its graceful spire tapering skywards, its 
tassel-like bells of brass suspended from the corners 
all set in a group of overshadowing chenar trees, 
with the snowy ranges in the far distance, the 
clear blue sky above and the spring sunshine bath- 
ing all in warmth and light, it would be hard 
indeed to find outside Kashmir. 

Beyond the seventh bridge is the Yarkand 
serai, filled with the Tartar-featured Yarkandis 
from Central Asia, in whose garb I myself arrived 
in Srinagar twenty-one years ago, and fully as 
dark as they from many months' exposure to the 
sun and snow. 

Above this is the first neat, well-constructed 
buildings — the Zenana hospital built and supported 
by the State, and now lined by the medical and 
nursing establishment come out to welcome the 




The sixth and most of the other bridges of 
Srinagar are built up on piers of crossed horizontal 
logs of wood. They occupy much of the river 
way, but are very distinctive, and harmonise most 
picturesquely with the wooden houses of the city. 
They were all crowded with people. And on the 
banks near one were assembled many hundreds of 
school-boys carrying small flags, which they waved 
as the Maharaja passed, and shouted " Eep, eep, ra ! 
Eep, eep, ra ! " continuously for many minutes in 
imitation of the British cheer. Mottoes of welcome 
were stretched across the houses in places, some 
invoking long life for the King-Emperor, and others 
expressing loyal wishes for the Maharaja. Between 
the third and fourth bridges are the shops of most 
of the chief bankers and merchants, big, handsome, 
picturesque buildings of small bricks and wood- 
work, with semicircular balconies jutting out over 
the river and pretty carved and lattice -work 
windows. Near the third bridge is the fine Shah 
Hamadan mosque of an almost Norwegian type of 
architecture, built of wood with a tall taper spire 
and handsome hanging ornaments from the eaves. 
Beyond the third bridge is the chief Hindu temple, 
of quite a different order of architecture, built of 
stone — and, as along the whole embankment of 


the river, with the great stone blocks from the 
temples and cities of ancient Hindu times. 

And so the procession up the river continues, 
through the avenue of houses, mosques, and 
temples ; past rows of grain barges and house- 
boats tethered to the shores ; past the curious 
wooden bathing-boxes, under the old-style wooden 
bridge ; past flights of steps leading to the water s 
edge and crowded with people mostly, it is sad to 
say, in dull brown or the dirtiest white, but some- 
times in gay orange-green or purple ; past the old 
residence of the Governors and the new villa of 
Sir Amar Singh till the Maharaja's palace is 
reached, where the procession finally halts while 
all the hundreds of little boats which had followed 
in rear swarm round the palace steps. The 
llesident then takes leave, the Maharaja ascends 
into his palace, and the Resident and the European 
community proceed still farther up the river to the 
European settlement in the area known as the 
INIunshi Bagh. 

The palace, though large, is disappointing. It is 
not what one would have expected on such a site. 
Even the native portion is not handsome, and on to 
this has been tacked an ugly European edifice. 
A great chance has been thrown away, and one 



can only hope that time will either tone down the 
present ungainliness or remove it altogether, and 
erect a building more worthy of the rulers and of 
the beautiful country which they rule. 

On either side are two handsome villas of brick 
and wood such as are seen on the banks of the 
Thames ; the one belongs to the Maharaja's brother 
Raja Sir Amar Singh, and the other is allotted 
by His Highness to his chief spiritual adviser. 
Beyond is the great flight of steps, at which Lord 
Minto landed on his arrival in 1906, leading to the 
main land entrance of the palace on the one hand, 
and on the other to a new, well-built, fairly clean 
and extremely picturesque bazaar. 

Then the last, or rather, as it is commonly known, 
the first bridge is passed, over which lies the main 
road from Rawal Pindi and Baramula to Srinagar 
and the Munshi Bagh ; and beyond this are passed 
more villas, then the State Hospital and the 
Museum on the right and various State buildings on 
the left, including the old Guest House in which were 
entertained Sir Henry Lawrence and JohnNicholson. 
Beyond is clear of the town, and along the " Bund " 
or embankment, which forms a lovely walk by 
the water-edge, has now arisen a series of smart 
European buildings — the missionaries' quarters, the 


Punjab Bank, Parsi shops, the Post Office, the 
Residency clerks' quarter and office, and then 
the Residency itself, a regular English country- 
house ; and beyond it a tidy little Club, the second 
Assistant Resident's quarters, the Parsonage, the 
Church, and a line of houses each in its own snug 
and pretty little garden, the residences of British 
officials in the employ of the Kashmir State. The 
whole Bund is overshadowed by great chenar trees 
and willows, and both sides of the river are lined 
with house-boats. A thousand feet immediately 
behind rises the Takht-i-Suliman with the graceful 
Hindu temple on its summit, and behind this again 
the great ranges with snow still lying low upon them. 

Behind the Bund lie many other modern houses, 
including Nedou's hotel, and on the slopes of the 
Takht and towards Gupkar many English villas are 
springing up — all in much the same style, built of 
brick and cross-beams of wood with gable roofs. 
There are also tennis courts and a croquet and 
badminton grounds round the Club, and on the open 
plain golf links, a polo ground, and a cricket 
ground. Srinagar is indeed a gay place for the 
summer months, with games going on every day, 
dances nearly every week, dinners, garden parties, 
and picnics. 





The Jama Masjid 

The largest and most striking, though not the 
most beautiful, of the Mohamedan buildings in 
Srinagar is the Jama Masjid, which was built by 
the Emperor Shah Jehan. It is constructed of 
wood throughout, and is in the form of a square 
enclosing a courtyard. The main building, of 
course, faces Mecca. Here there is a forest of 
pillars all of single deodar trees, and remarkable 
for their height and grace. A staircase leads on 
to the roof, from which a good view over the sea 
of mud-roofed houses of Srinagar may be obtained. 

Taken as a whole the building is not very 
remarkable. The graceful steeples, of the style 
characteristic of Kashmir, in the centre of each 
face are worthy of note. But all is in disrepair 
and neglected, and is hardly worthy of a city of 
over a hundred thousand Mohamedans. 

Shah Hamadan Masjid 

A more beautiful building than the Jama 
Masjid is the graceful Mosque of Shah Hamadan, 
situated close upon the river, and a very favourite 
object for artists and photographers. It also is 
built of wood with pointed steeple, beautifully 


carved eaves and hanging bells, like most of the 
JNIohamedan structures in Kashmir. 

Other Buildings 

Scattered throughout the city are other 
mosques of much the same style of architecture. 
There are also several Hindu temples of the usual 
type, and not especially characteristic of Kashmir. 

Dr. Neve's Hospital 

Conspicuous above the European quarter stand 
the group of buildings known all over Kashmir 
as Dr. Neve's Hospital, a mission hospital which, 
with Mr. Biscoe's School, is the most sincerely 
appreciated of all the efforts which Europeans 
have made for the welfare of the Kashmir people. 
Last year no less than 22,735 new out-patients 
were treated, and the total number of visits 
amounted to 56,280. 1764 in-patients, of whom 
476 were females, were also treated ; and 5038 
surgical operations were performed. Sometimes 
over 200 out-patients, and on a few days over 300 
out-patients, were treated in a single day. These 
figures speak for themselves. They show the 
confidence the people now have in the wonderful 
institution and the steady practical good it is 




doing. The heads of the hospital are the brothers 
Drs. Arthur and Ernest Neve ; and they are 
assisted by Dr. Rawlenee, Miss Neve, Miss 
Robinson, Mr. S. Wilson, and 54 native assistants 
and servants. 

The hospital was founded in 1865 by Dr. 
Elsmie, who for many years had uphill work in 
starting the institution, but at length gained the 
confidence of the people and of the late Maharaja. 
Dr. Downes succeeded Dr. Elsmie, and carried 
the work forward. In 1881 Dr. Neve took it up. 
In that year 10,800 new patients were treated ; 
there were 23,393 visits, and 1418 operations 
were performed. Year by year since then the 
good work has progressed. The original mud- 
buildings have gradually been replaced by the 
present solid masonry structures. And the steady 
growth of the number of in-patients, and the 
readiness with which even upper-class women 
remain in the hospital, testify to the confidence 
with which the institution is now regarded. It 
is now renowned through all the north of India, 
and is a splendid testimony to the steady, 
thorough, and persevering work of two self- 
sacrificing men. 



The Takht-i-Suliman 

The most conspicuous object in the neighbour- 
hood of Srinagar is tlie Takht-i-Suliman, a hill 
exactly a thousand feet above the valley plain, and 
surmounted by an ancient Hindu temple. Both 
for the sake of the view over the valley, up the 
reaches of the Jhelum, and down on to the Dal 
Lake and the city of Srinagar immediately at the 
foot, and also to see the older temple even now 
frequented by pilgrims from all over India, a climb 
to the summit is well repaid. 

The temple is believed to have been dedicated 
to Jyesthesvara, a form of the god Siva. It was at 
one time thought that it was built 220 B.C., but it 
is now believed by the best authorities that while 
the massive basement and stairs are remains of an 
ancient building (possibly Gopaditya's, as Dr. Stein 
thinks), the present superstructure may be of later 
date. The roof is certainly modern, but the temple 
as a whole probably belongs to the same period as 
the other temples in Kashmir. 

It is of the typical Hindu plan of a square 
with recessed corners, and is built like all the 
ancient Kashmir temples of massive blocks of 





Three miles up the river from Srinagar is the site 
of what is very probably the original city of Srinagar 
founded by Asoka. The name of Pandrathan now 
given to the village is identified with the Purana- 
dhisthana, or "ancient capital" of the records, and 
this has been presumed to be the same as Srinagar 
founded by Asoka, the Buddhist king. But of this 
city nothing now remains, and the picturesque 
temple there is of later date. It was built by the 
minister Meruvad-dhana in the beginning of the 
tenth century, and dedicated to Vishnu. 

The Dal Lake 

The Dal Lake, with the canal leading into it, 
and the various gardens on its shores, is one of the 
chief attractions of the neighbourhood of Srinagar. 
It is always lovely, but perhaps at no season more 
beautiful than early in INIay. Passing through the 
lock known as the Dal Darwaza, we glide through 
channels of still, transparent water hedged in by 
reeds and willows. On the right rises the Takht-i- 
Suliman immediately out of the lake. In front 
are the snowy ranges bordering the Sind valley. 
Numerous side-channels branch off and intersect. 


The shores are covered with market gardens. 
Country boats laden with their produce continually 
pass, usually propelled by some old man or woman 
squatting at the extreme prow, and balancing him 
or herself there with extraordinary confidence and 
skill. Numerous kingfishers of brilliant sky-blue 
plumage flash across the water ; and gorgeous 
yellow -golden orioles dart from tree to tree. 
Clumps of noble chenar trees with the Kashmir 
chalet houses are grouped along the banks, and 
often overhang the mirror waters. Orchards of 
quince trees with their delicate pink and white 
blossom and fields of brilliant yellow mustard line 
the shores. Cows and their calves, sheep and their 
little lambs, graze on the fresh green grass ; and 
pretty but dirty little children, geese and goslings, 
ducks and ducklings, dabble in the water, and all tell 
of the rich abundant life now bursting into being. 

Rounding a turn in the canal a graceful Hindu 
temple is seen forming the end of a reach, and on its 
steps leading to the edge of the water and reflected 
in it are picturesque groups of women, most of 
them indeed in the dull brown which they wear 
with lamentable frequency, but some of them also 
in bright greens and yellows which furnish the 
needed touch of colour to the scene. 




Some hundreds of yards farther on we pass 
under an old bridge with a pointed arch of quaint 
artistic design of Moghal times. Numerous grain 
boats of enormous size an congregated here ; and 
half a mile farther the channel gradually opens out, 
and at length we emerge on to the open lake itself. 

The water is so still and so clear that the 
reflections of the surrounding mountains are seen 
as in the most polished mirror. The reflected 
mountain is as sharp and distinct as the mountain 
itself. The luxuriant plant growth from the 
bottom and the numerous fishes are seen as in 
clear air. On the far shores of the lake the stately 
avenues of the Nishat and Shalimar Baghs approach 
the water's edge. Above them rise high mountain 
cliffs. Graceful boats glide smoothly over the 
glassy surface of the lake — some the bearers of 
market produce, some occupied by fishermen, and a 
few filled with holiday-makers enjoying thoroughly 
the beauty of the scene, and giving expression to 
the enjoyment in songs and music. 

May is not the season for the lotus, so that one 
additional attraction is lacking ; but in July and 
August, when the lotus is in full bloom, the lake 
itself, though not the shores and setting, is at 
perfection. The lotuses are as large as the two 


hands joined together, of a delicate pink, and set on 
the water in hundreds. In the midst of their grace- 
ful leaves they add a beauty to the lake which 
attracts multitudes from the city. 

Gliding on beyond the lotuses we pass the 
famous Isle of Chenars with its magnificent trees 
and grassy velvet banks ; we pass a little pro- 
montory with another huge chenar tree growing 
out right over the water, and giving shelter to a 
liouse-boat comfortably ensconced beneath its shade; 
and then we reach the widest and most open 
portion of the lake. In the distance, towards the 
Sind valley, well-wooded villages cover the lower 
slopes of the mountains inclining towards the lake, 
and away in the farthest westward distance the 
Khagan snows are faintly traced. 

From here to the Nishat or Shalimar Baghs we 
would bear off to the right. To the Nasim Bagh 
we bear to the left, and closing in to the southern 
shore pass a picturesque village by the side of the 
lake with chalet-like house, a handsome ziarat, a 
background of chenar trees and long lines of 
steps, generally crowded with people, leading to 
the water's edge. In about an hours row from 
the start at the Dal Darwaza the Nasim Bagh is 




Nasim Bagh 

The Nasim Bagh is a series of avenues of 
glorious chenar trees crossing one another at right 
angles, and each avenue about three hundred yards 
in length. Under these is soft, fresh green grass, 
and the whole is raised twenty or thirty feet above 
the water. There are no flower gardens, but the 
site makes a perfect camping-ground, and many 
house-boats anchor here in the summer. 

Looking out from the shade of the chenars we 
see straight across the lake the Shalimar Bagh with 
the Dachigan valley behind it, and the snowy 
Mahadeo Peak towering above. From the opposite 
side of the Bagh, looking away from the lake, there 
are views over the Kashmir valley to the snows of 
the Pir Panjal and of the Khagan range. And 
round the edges were clumps of large white and 
purple irises. 

In the autumn the Nasim Bagh is more beauti- 
ful still, for then the chenars are in all the richness 
of their autumn foliage, and a more perfect camping 
or picnic spot man could hardly wish for. 

The Shalimar Bagh 
On the north-east corner of the Dal Lake, and 
approached by a canal about a mile in length, with 


banks of soft green turf, and running between an 
avenue of chenars and willows, is the Shalimar 
Bagh, or royal garden, the favourite resort of the 
Moghal Emperor Jehangir and his wife, the 
famous Nurmahal, for whom the Taj at Agra was 
built as a tomb. The gardens can also be reached 
by a beautiful road along the shores of the lake, 
nine miles from the city of Srinagar. 

The situation is not so beautiful as the site of 
the Nishat Bagh, for it is almost on a level, and 
is surrounded by a high wall. But it is only in 
comparison with the Nishat Bagh that it can suffer 
disparagement, and anywhere else than in Kashmir 
it would be hard to find a more beautiful garden 
than the Shalimar on an autumn evening, when the 
great avenue of chenar trees is tinged with gold 
and russet, when the lofty mountains which rise 
behind it take on every shade of blue and purple, 
and the long lines of fountains running through 
the avenue sparkle in the sunshine. 

The garden is remarkable too for a pavilion, with 
exquisitely carved pillars of black marble. It is set 
in a tank in which play numbers of fountains, and 
round the borders of the tank are massive chenar 
trees. The total length of the garden is 600 yards, 
and it is arranged in four terraces, on three of which 




are pavilions. Except for the pavilion with marble 
pillars and the water channel, the garden is in a 
state of ruin ; but Mr. Nichols of the Archaeological 
Department Survey has attempted to reconstruct 
its former outlines. There is a tradition that the 
garden was originally larger than the present walled 
enclosure, and there are found along the canal 
which connects it with the Dal Lake the ruins of 
masonry foundations, which mark either the begin- 
ning of the old garden or the site of a pavilion 
within it. Causeways and channels probably ex- 
tended across the garden with tanks and platforms. 

The garden was in the strictest sense a formal 
garden, and in making his recommendation for its 
restoration, Mr. Nichols enlarges on the artificiality 
which is the charm of a formal garden. Apprecia- 
tion of a formal garden requires, he thinks, an 
acquired taste, but the Moghals certainly under- 
stood such matters. They were quite right in 
selecting trees of formal growth, and planting 
them on geometrical lines, the essence of a 
good garden being that it should form a pleasing 
intermediate step between the free treatment 
which Nature lavishes on hills and plains, field 
and forest, and that necessarily artificial object — 
a building made by the hand of men. 



Such are Mr. Nichols' ideas, for which there is 
a good deal to be said. But some may also think 
that when a once formal garden and formal build- 
ings have already fallen into ruin and returned 
as it were to nature, there may be less need to 
restore the formality, and that to fall in with the 
ways of Nature may be the best method of add- 
ing to the existing beauty of the garden. In any 
case the improvement of the turf, the removal of 
modern hideosities of buildings, and the replacing 
of the makeshift fountains by fountains of really 
tasteful design, would greatly improve this beautiful 

The Nishat Bagh 

The Nishat Bagh is decidedly the favourite 
garden in Kashmir, though it has no building so 
fine as the pavilion with the black pillars in the 
Shalimar Bagh. Its situation on the rising 
ground sloping up from the Dal Lake, backed by 
a range of mountains immediately behind, and 
with views far over the water and over the valley 
to the distant snowy mountains, gives it an ad- 
vantage over every other garden, and its beauty 
in spring-time when the Kashmir lilac and the fruit 
trees are in blossom, when the chenars are in young 




leaf and the turf in its freshest green, I have 
already described.^ In the autumn it is scarcely 
less beautiful in a different way. Then the 
chenars are in a gorgeous foliage of gold and 
purple. Day after day of brilliant sunshine and 
cloudless sky give a sense of security of beauty, 
and no more perfect pleasure-ground could be 

The garden was constructed by the Moghal 
Emperor Jehangir. It can be reached either by 
water or by road along the shores of the lake. It 
is about 600 yards long and divided into seven 
terraces, each rising well above the other. Down 
the centre runs a water -channel broken into a 
succession of waterfalls and fountains, and shaded 
by an avenue of chenars. 

The pavilion at the entrance, though affording 
from its upper story a striking view of the garden 
right up the line of waterfalls and fountains, and 
on to the mountains which hang over the garden, 
is a modern structure and is not beautiful in itself. 
It is a thousand pities, indeed, that this most 
superb site has not been made use of to construct 
a really beautiful pavilion on the lines of that in 
the Shalimar Bagh. On the higher terraces are 

^ P. S2. 


the foundations of other pavilions and massive 
stone throne-like seats which indicate the fuller 
beauties of the Moghal times. 

On the topmost terrace is a beautiful clump 
of magnificent chenar trees and a wide extent of 
soft green turf — an ideal spot for picnics and 
garden-parties. And it is from this point that 
can be seen the most beautiful and extensive views 
through the avenue of chenar trees, over the 
fountains and waterfalls, on to the glassy lake and 
the distant snowy ranges. 


A very little known but very accessible and 
particularly interesting spot is the site of the 
ancient city of Parihasapura, the modern Paraspur, 
situated two and a half miles south - west of 
Shadipur, and stretching from there on a karewa, 
or raised plateau, to the Srinagar and Baramula 
road. There is not much left now above ground, 
for numbers of the massive blocks of stone of 
which the city and temples were built have been 
taken away ages ago to build the temples of Patan 
close by, and, alas ! also to metal the Baramula 
road. But the outlines of the walls may still be 
traced sufficiently well to attest the grand scale 




on which the city was built ; and we know from 
records that it was built by the same great king 
Lalataditya, who erected the temple of Martand 
in the eighth century. 

And Parihasapura, like Martand, has been set 
off to the greatest advantage by natural scenery. 
This Kashmir king must indeed have been worthy 
of the beautiful country which he ruled. In his 
time the Sind and Jhelum rivers met, not at 
Shadipur as now, but at the edge of the karewa 
on which Lalataditya built his city. And from 
the plateau views could be obtained right up the 
Sind valley to Haramukh and the craggy mountain 
peaks which bound it on either side ; far up and 
down the main valley, over the fields of emerald 
rice or golden mustard, and the numerous hamlets 
hidden in clumps of chenar and willow, mulberry 
and walnut ; over also the glistening reaches of the 
Jhelum River, to the snowy ranges which at a 
distance far enough away not to dwarf or over- 
power the city encircled it on every side. No 
temple was ever built on a finer site than Martand, 
and no city was ever set in more lovely surround- 
ings than Parihasapura. 

According to a passage in the Rajatarangini 
the king Lalataditya erected five large buildings : 


(1) a temple of Vishnu Parihasakesava with a 
silver image ; (2) a temple of Vishnu Muktakesava 
with a golden image ; (3) a temple of Vishnu 
JNIahavaraha with an image clad in golden armour ; 
(4) a temple to the god Govardhanadhara with 
a silver image ; (5) the Rajavihara or monastery 
with a large quadrangle and a colossal statue of 
Buddha in copper, which indicate that in ancient 
times there must have been a large and important 
Buddhist settlement. The same king is also said 
to have erected a stone pillar 54 cubits high with 
an image of Garuda on the top. 



Among the beauties of Kashmir the Residency 
Garden must surely not be omitted. The 
Maharaja has provided for the Residency one of 
the most charming houses in India — a regular 
English country-house. And successive Residents, 
in my case aided by Mr. Harrison and Major 
Wigram, have striven to make the garden worthy 
of the country and the house. Here grows in 
perfection every English flower. The wide lawns 
are as soft and green as any English lawn. All 
the English fruits — pears, apples, peaches, apricots, 
plums, greengages, cherries, walnuts, mulberries, 
gooseberries, currants, raspberries, and strawberries 
— grow to perfection and in prodigious quantities ; 
and the magnificent chenar and innumerable birds 
add a special charm of their own. 

Perhaps a record of the cycle of the birds 



and flowers will give an idea not only of the 
beauties of the garden, but of the climate of the 

Early in March the garden beauties begin to 
develop. The turf is then still quite brown and 
the trees leafless, but on March 8th, when I 
returned to Srinagar this year, violets, pansies, 
wall-flowers, narcissus, crocuses, and daisies were 
all in flower. Daflbdils, hyacinths, stock and a 
few carnations were in bud. Columbine and 
larkspur leaves were sprouting. Peas and broad 
beans sown in November were a few inches high. 
And of the trees, willow leaf-buds were just 
bursting and showing a tinge of fresh light yellow 
green, and one apricot tree was nearly bursting into 
blossom. Of birds there were thrushes, minas, 
bulbuls, sparrows, crows, kites, blue-tits, hoopoes, 
and starlings ; and of butterflies, a few tortoise- 
shell and cabbage-whites. 

The maximum temperature in the shade was 
55° and in the sun 104°, and the minimum 
temperature was 31". 

On March 17th the willow trees had acquired 
a distinct tinge of green, as also had the grass. 
Wild hyacinths (blue-bells) and yellow crocuses 
were well out. The maximum temperature was 




68° in the shade and 110 in the sun, and the 
minimum was 32°. 

On the same day in the previous year the 
maximum was 56^ and the minimum S5\ and 
four days later there was snow. 

By March 20th the apricot blossoms were in 
full bloom. Willow trees were in half-leaf. 
Garden hyacinths, daffodils, Crown Imperials, and 
English primroses were just beginning to bloom ; 
and greengages were in blossom. 

By the end of March the maximum temperature 
had reached 75° in the shade and 125° in the sun, 
while the minimum stood at 40°. This, however, 
was an exceptionally warm March. 

By April 1st the garden was exquisitely 
beautiful. The willows were now well out, and 
in all the charm of fresh young spring foliage. 
Apricots and peach trees formed little clouds of 
delicate pink and white dotted lightly over the 
garden, and not too dense to hide the glories of 
the snowy mountains in the background. The tall 
pear trees were nearly in full bloom. A few of 
the pinky- white apple blossoms were just appearing. 
The May leaves were showing a tinge of green. 
Chenar leaves were just appearing. The mulberry 
leaf-buds were beginning to burst. Catkins were 




hanging from the poplars. Rose leaves were fully 
out. The grass had nearly turned from brown to 
green. Iris buds were showing a tinge of purple. 
Hyacinths were well out, and Crown Imperials and 
daffodils in full bloom. 

On April 3rd the first of the pretty little wild 
tulips striped white and pink appeared, and on 
the following day the first of the large dark purple 
irises and two or three large white irises came into 
bloom. Heavy rain fell, and on the 5th the grass 
was entirely green. On that day the pears were 
in full blossom. Two of the magnificent scarlet 
Kashmir tulips, which are a joy to any garden, 
came into blossom, and two English tulips also 
came out. Rose-buds were beginning to form. 
The maximum temperature was 59° and the 
minimum 42\ On April 7th the first columbine 
came into bloom, and on the 9th the first shrike 

Now followed a deluge of rain. On the 12th 
2^ inches fell. By the morning of the 13th 14-65 
inches had fallen since .January 1st, in comparison 
with a normal fall of 10*6 inches. And, most un- 
expected of all, on the night of 12th- 13th snow 
fell ! The maximum temperature was only 50^ and 
the minimum 33°. In a single night all the lovely 



delicate peach blossoms, the crowning glory of the 
Kashmir spring, were withered up, and for the 
moment we seemed plunged back once more to 

But April 15th was one of Kashmir's most 
lovely days. The poplars were now in fresh light 
foliage. May was in full leaf. Irises were 
plentiful. Several columbines were in bloom. 
Both the Kashmir and English tulips were well 
out ; and the strawberries were in blossom. On 
this day, too, I saw a flight of green parrots with 
long yellow tails in the garden. 

The first rose bloomed on April 17th, a white 
climber whose name I do not know, growing on 
the south verandah. Last year the first did not 
appear till the 26th. 

May came into bloom on April 24th, and on the 
25th a scarlet poppy and a white peony blossomed. 
For some days then the weather had been ex- 
ceptionally warm, the maximum rising to 80"" in 
the shade and 129^ in the sun, and the minimum 
to 5V. 

The first golden oriole appeared on the 26th — • 
exactly the same date as that on which it appeared 
last year. The golden orioles have a glorious 
deep liquid note which thrills through the whole 


garden. Two or three pairs always settle there, 
and all day long their brilliant yellow plumage is 
seen flashing from tree to tree. 

Three days later another brilliant visitant 
appears, the paradise fly-catcher. He has not 
the beautifid note of the golden oriole, nor such 
striking plumage. But he has exceedingly graceful 
form and movements. He has a very long, wavy, 
ribbony tail, like a paradise bird, and the two or 
three pairs of them which yearly settle in the garden 
may be seen at any hour undulating through the 
foliage or darting swiftly out to catch their prey. 

By May 1st the magnificent chenar trees were 
in full leaf Mulberry, horse-chestnut, and walnut 
were also well in leaf. The roses were coming 
into bloom — numerous Marechal Neil, and a 
beautiful single pink rose — the sinica anemone — 
a few of Fortune's yellow, and many tea-roses. 
The May trees were in full blossom. The bank 
on the south side of the garden was a mass of 
dark purple and white irises, and of an evening 
when the sunlight glancing low along its length 
caused each flower to stand out in separate state, 
became a blaze of glory. Another beauty of this 
season were bushes of what is generally known 
as Indian May, with long slender stalks bent 



gracefully downward like a waterfall of snowy 
flowers. Stock was in full bloom. Pansies were 
out in masses. Both the English and Kashmir 
lilac were in blossom, and the columbines were in 
perfection. I had had out from Barr & Sons a 
number of varieties, and the success was remark- 
able. The Kashmir soil and climate seem to suit 
columbines, and varieties from every part of the 
world, deep purple, light mauve, white, mauve and 
white, pink and red of many different graceful 
forms, came up luxuriantly. They were one of 
the successes which gladden an amateur gardener's 

The maximum in the shade was 60', in the sun 
122^ and the minimum 48^ 

The first strawberries ripened a week later. The 
first horse-chestnuts came into blossom on May 
10th, and on that date the single pink rose, sinica 
anemone, on the trellis at the end of the garden, 
was in full bloom and of wondrous beauty ; a 
summer-house covered with Fortune's yellow was 
a dream of golden loveliness ; I picked the first 
bloom of some English roses which a kind friend 
had sent out, and which had been planted in a 
special rose garden I had made for them — William 
Shean, Mrs. Ed. Mauley, Mrs. W. J. Grant, and 


Carmine Pillar ; and we had our first plateful of 

A light mauve iris, a native of Kashmir, now 
came into bloom ; geraniums and some lovely 
varieties of Shirley poppy which I had obtained 
from Mr. Luther Burbank, the famous plant-breeder 
of California, began to blossom ; and roses of every 
variety came rapidly on till the garden became a 
blaze of colour. 

The first of some remarkably beautiful del- 
phiniums — some a deep blue, some sky blue, and 
some opalescent — which I had also obtained from 
Luther Burbank appeared in bloom on May 1 7th. 

A spell of hot weather now set in, and on May 
21st the maximum temperature rose to 84° in the 
shade and 134° in the sun, and the minimum to 54°. 

By May 25th the roses were at their maximum 
of beauty. The sweetly-scented and delicately- 
coloured La France roses were at perfection. Rich 
bushes of General Jacqueminot, of John Hopper, of 
the pink rose of Kashmir, and of many other kinds 
whose names I do not know, formed great masses of 
colour against the soft green leaves and the plenti- 
ful foliage of the chenar trees. William Alan 
Richardson climbed over the trellises. The Shirley 
poppies gave every deep or delicate shade of red 




and pink. Sweet-peas were in full bloom, and of 
them also I had had a marvellous variety from 
England. Pinks and carnations were coming 
rapidly on. A mauve and yellow iris had appeared. 
Luther Burbank's delphiniums formed welcome 
patches of real true blues in the herbaceous border 
round the lawn. The light and graceful gyp- 
sophylis and phlox were in bloom ; gladioli were 
just coming out; and the horse-chestnut trees 
were all in gorgeous blossom. 

Early in June the gladioli, Canterbury bells, 
pinks, sweet-williams, and foxgloves were in full 
bloom, and the sweet-william especially gave masses 
of beautiful and varied colour. The temperature 
now rose to 88° in the shade and 135° in the sun, and 
the minimum to 54°. On June 10th, carnations, 
phlox, and Eschscholtzia were in full bloom. And 
by June 15th, though many of the best roses had 
passed over two beautiful climbers which I had 
obtained from home, Dorothy Perkins and Lady 
Gay were in full blossom, and the delicate pink and 
graceful form of the latter were especially lovely. 
Geraniums and fuschias were now fully out, and 
masses of tall hollyhocks in many different shades 
of colour were most effective. A few cannas and 
some lilies also came into bloom. 



By the end of June apricots were ripe. 
Petunias and dahlias were out, and a few colum- 
bines still remained in bloom. The temperature 
had now gone up to 94° in the shade and 142° 
in the sun, and the minimum to 62° ; and early in 
July it rose to 97° in the shade, which is about as 
hot as it ever becomes in the valley. 

On returning to Srinagar on September 7th 
I found the bed of scarlet salvias giving brilliant 
patches of colour and most effectively lighting 
up the garden. The autumn crop of roses was 
beginning, though the blooms were not so fine as 
the spring crop. Geraniums, fuschias, asters, cannas, 
zinnias, gallardia, and verbena were in abundance ; 
stock and phlox were still out, and the hibiscus 
bushes were in full bloom. Burbank's delphiniums 
were also having a light second bloom. The 
maximum in the shade was 81" and in the sun 128°, 
and the minimum 52°. The rainfall to date from 
January 1st was 27*4 inches in comparison with 
a normal fall of 21*7 inches. 

By the beginning of October last year cosmos 
was blooming luxuriantly. Christmas roses were 
in full blossom, and the first chrysanthemum 
appeared. During the month these blossomed in 
great beauty and became the chief attraction in the 



garden. Towards the end of the month and begin- 
ning of November the great chenar trees gradually 
assumed the gorgeous autumn colouring. The 
Virginian creeper on the porch turned to every rich 
hue of red and purple. Then the glories of the 
garden slowly vanished away. The leaves fell 
from the trees. The frost turned the turf brown. 
On December 1st there were still a few brave 
remnants of the summer splendour — a few^ tea- 
roses, stocks, phlox, wallflower, chrysanthemums, 
carnations, petunias, gallardia, nasturtiums, salvia, 
snapdragons, and one or two violets. But the 
temperature was now 25° at night, and the 
maximum in the day only 54°, and these too soon 
disappeared, and the only consolation left was the 
clearer view of the mountains of w^hich the absence 
of foliage on the trees allowed. Thus ends the 
story of a garden's glory. 




What will be one day known as the playground 
of India, and what is known to the Kashmiris as 
the "Meadow of Flowers," is situated twenty-six 
miles from Srinagar, half-way up the northward- 
facing slopes of the Pir Panjal. There is no other 
place like Gulmarg. Originally a mere meadow to 
which the Kashmiri shepherds used to bring their 
sheep, cattle, and ponies for summer grazing, it is 
now the resort of six or seven hundred European 
visitors every summer. The Maharaja has a 
palace there. There is a Residency, an hotel, with 
a theatre and ball-room, post office, telegraph 
office, club, and more than a hundred huts " 
built and owned by Europeans. There are also 
golf links, two polo grounds, a cricket ground, 
four tennis courts, and two croquet grounds. 
There are level circular roads running all round it. 




There is a pipe water-supply, and maybe soon there 
will be electric light everywhere. And yet for 
eight months in the year the place is entirely 
deserted and under snow. 

Like Kashmir generally, Gulmarg also is said 
by those who knew it in the old days to be now 
"spoilt." With the increasing numbers of visitors, 
with the numerous huts springing up year by year 
in every direction, with the dinners and dances, it 
is said to have lost its former charms, and it is 
believed that in a few years it will not be worth 
living in. My own view is precisely the opposite. 
I knew Gulmarg nineteen years ago, and it 
certainly then had many charms. The walks and 
scenery and the fresh bracing air were delightful. 
Where now are roads there were then only 
meandering paths. What is now the polo ground 
was then a swamp. The fore " of the golfer was 
unknown. All was then Arcadian simplicity. 
Nothing more thrilling than a walk in the woods, 
or at most a luncheon party, was ever heard of. 

And, doubtless, this simplicity of life has its 
advantages. But it had also its drawbacks. Man 
cannot live for ever on walks however charming 
and however fascinating his companion may be. 
His soul yearns for a ball of some kind whether it 



be a polo ball, a cricket ball, a tennis ball, a golf 
ball, or even a croquet ball. Until he has a ball 
of some description to play with he is never really- 

So now that a sufficient number of visitors 
come to Gulmarg to supply subscriptions enough 
to make and keep up really good golf links, polo 
grounds, etc., I for my part think Gulmarg is 
greatly improved. I think, further, that it has not 
yet reached the zenith of its attractions. It is the 
Gulmarg of the future that will be the really 
attractive Gulmarg, when there is money enough 
to make the second links as good as the first, to 
lay out good rides down and around the marg, to 
make a lake at the end, to stock it with trout, and 
to have electric light and water in all the " huts," 
and when a good hotel and a good club, with 
quarters for casual bachelor visitors, have been 

All this is straying far from the original 
Arcadian simplicity, but those who wish for 
simplicity can still have it in many another valley 
in Kashmir — at Sonamarg, Pahlgam, or Tragbal, 
and numerous other places, and the advantage of 
Gulmarg is that the visitor can still if he choose 
be very fairly simple. He can go about in a suit 



of puttoo. He need not go to a single dance, or 
theatrical performance, or dinner-party, or play a 
single game. He need not speak to a soul unless 
he wants to. He can pitch his tent in some 
remote end of the marg, and he can take his 
solitary walks in the woods ; but, if after a while he 
finds his own society is not after all so agreeable as 
he had thought, if he feels a hankering for the 
society of his fellows, male or female, and if he 
finds the temptation to play with some ball is 
irresistible, then just under his nose is every 
attraction. He can indulge his misanthropic 
inclinations at will, and at a turn in those inclina- 
tions he can plunge into games and gaiety to his 
heart's content. 

The main charm of Gulmarg will, however, 
always remain the beauty of its natural scenery 
and the views of the great peak, Nanga Parbat, 
26,260 feet above sea-level, and 80 miles distant 
across the valley. The marg or meadow itself is 
a flowery, saucer-shaped hollow under a mountain 
13,000 feet high, and bounded by a ridge directly 
overhanging the main valley of Kashmir. It is 
8500 feet above sea-level, open and covered with 
flowers and soft green turf, but on all sides it is 
surrounded by forests of silver fir interspersed 



with spruce, blue pine, maple, and a few horse- 
chestnuts, and the great attraction is that through 
this forest of stately graceful firs the most superb 
views may be had, first over the whole length and 
breadth of the vale of Kashmir, then along the 
range of snowy mountains on the north, and as 
a culminating pleasure, to the solitary Nanga 
Parbat, which stands out clear and distinct above 
and beyond all the lesser ranges, and belonging, 
so it seems, to a separate and purer world of its 
own. And there is the further attraction in the 
Gulmarg scenery that it is ever changing — now 
clear and suffused in brilliant sunlight, now the 
battle-ground of monsoon storms, and now again 
streaked with soft fleecy vapours and bathed in 
haze and colour. No two days are alike, and each 
point of view discloses some new loveliness. 

Round the outside of the ridge runs what is 
known as the circular road. It has the advantage 
of being perfectly level, and is fit for riding as well 
as walking. Except the road through the tropical 
forests near Darjiling, along which I rode on my 
way to and from Tibet, and which runs for miles 
through glorious tropical vegetation, by immense 
broad -leaved trees with unknown names, all 
festooned with creepers and lighted with orchids ; 




by great tree ferns, wild bananas, and a host of other 
treasures of plant life, and through which glimpses 
of the mighty Kinchinjanga, 28,250 feet, could be 
caught, — except that I know of no other more 
beautiful road than this along the ridge of Gulmarg. 

From it one looks down through the wealth of 
forest on to the valley below, intersected with 
streams and water- channels, dotted over with 
wooded villages, and covered with rice-fields of 
emerald green ; on to the great river winding along 
the length of the valley to the Wular Lake at its 
western end ; on to the glinting roofs of Srinagar ; 
on to the snowy range on the far side- valley ; and, 
finally, on to Nanga Parbat itself. 

And never for two days together is this glorious 
panorama exactly the same. One day the valley 
will be filled with a sea of rolling clouds through 
which gleams of sunshine light up the brilliant 
green of the rice-fields below. Above the billowy 
sea of clouds long level lines of mist will float along 
the opposite mountain-sides. Above these again 
will rise the great mountains looking inconceivably 
high. And above all will soar Nanga Parbat, look- 
ing at sunset like a pearly island rising from an 
ocean of ruddy light. 

On another day there will be not a cloud in the 



sky. The whole scene will be bathed m a bluey 
haze. Through the many vistas cut in the forest 
the eye will be carried to the foot-hills sloping 
gradually towards the river, to the little clumps of 
pine wood, the village clusters of walnut, pear, and 
mulberry, the fields of rice and maize, to the silvery 
reaches of the Jhelum, winding from the Wular 
Lake to Baramula, to the purply blue of the 
distant mountains, then on to the bluey white of 
Nanga Parbat, sharply defined, yet in colour nearly 
merging into the azure of the sky, and showing 
out in all the greater beauty that we see it framed 
by the dark and graceful pines in which we 

And this forest has no mean attractions of its 
own, of which to my little girl the chief were the 
white columbines. Here also are found purple 
columbines, delphiniums, what are known as white 
slipper orchids, yellow violets, balsams, mauve and 
yellow primulas, potentillas, anemones, Jacobs 
ladder, monkshood, salvias, many graceful ferns, 
and numerous other flowers of which I do not 
pretend to know the name. 

The Residency is situated on the summit of the 
ridge above the circular road, and from it can be 
seen not only Nanga Parbat (through a vista cut 




in the trees) and the main valley, but also a lovely 
little side-valley known as the Ferozepur nulla. 
Looking straight down two thousand feet through 
the pine trees we see a mountain torrent whose 
distant rumbling mingles soothingly with the sigh- 
ing of the pines. Brilliant green meadows, on 
which a few detached pine trees stand gracefully 
out here and there, line the river banks. Steep hill- 
sides, mostly clad in gloomy forest, rise on either 
hand, but relieved by many patches of grassy 
sun-lit slope. The spurs become a deeper and 
deeper purple as they recede. The openings in 
the forests become wider higher on the mountain- 
side where the avalanches have scoured them 
more frequently. Higher still the forest-line is 
passed, and the little stream is seen issuing from 
its source among the snow-fields and flowmg 
over enticing grassy meadows. Above the glisten- 
ing snow-fields rises a rugged peak of the Pir 
Panjal which, when it is not set against a back- 
ground of intense blue sky, is the butt of raging 

The most beautiful time in Gulmarg is in 
September, when the rains are over and the first 
fresh autumn nip is in the air. Then from the 
summer-house in our garden, in the early morning, 




to feast my eyes on Nanga Parbat was a perpetual 
delight. It was the very emblem of purity, dignity, 
and repose. Day after day it would appear as a 
vision of soft pure white in a gauze-like haze of 
delicate blue. Too light and too ethereal for 
earth, but seemingly a part of heaven ; a vision 
which was a religion in itself, which diffused its 
beauty throughout one's being, and evoked from 
it all that was most pure and lovely. 

The foreground in this autumn month was also 
worthy of the supreme subject of the picture. 
Through the pines the touches of sunlit meadow, 
fresh and green, with long shadows of the trees 
thrown here and there across them and intensifying 
the effect of the sunlight ; the groups of cattle ; 
the horizontal streaks of mist floating on the edge 
of the woods ; the cheerful twittering of the birds ; 
the soothing hum of the bees and insects ; the crow- 
ing of cocks ; the rippling sound of running water ; 
and then, looking towards Aparwat, the brilliant 
sunshine brightening the emerald grass of the marg ; 
the patches of yellow flowers ; the little meander- 
ing stream ; the pretty chalet huts peeping out 
from the edge of the trees ; the background of 
dark firs and pines getting lighter as they merge 
into the bluey haze of tlie distance ; the fresh green 



meadows over the limit of the pines ; the snow- 
fields ; the rocky peaks, and above all the clear blue 
liquid sky, — all this gave a setting and an atmo- 
sphere which fitly served as an accompaniment to 
this most impressive of Nature's works. 


the valleys and places of interest 
The Sind Valley 

The most bold and striking of the side-valleys is 
undoubtedly the Sind valley. A fourteen-miles 
ride, or a night in a boat, takes the traveller to 
Ganderbal at its mouth, from which Sonamarg, the 
favourite camping-ground near the head of the 
valley, is four marches distant. The lower portion 
is not particularly interesting, though even here 
the pine woods, the rushing river, and the village 
clusters are beautiful. But at Sonamarg — " the 
golden meadow" — the great peaks close round, 
glaciers pour down from them almost on to the 
camping -ground, and the scenery has all the 
grandeur of the Alps. 

Sonamarg itself is a narrow grassy flat, 8650 feet 
above sea-level, extending for some two miles 
between the hill-side and the river bank where 





another beautiful valley joins in from the south- 
west. All the slopes and meadows are covered 
with alpine flowers. Rich forests of silver fir, 
intermingled with sycamore and fringed on their 
upper borders with silver birch, clothe the mountain- 
sides. From each valley flows a rich white glacier. 
Grand rocky cliffs encircle the forests and meadows, 
and culminate in bold snowy peaks which give a 
crowning beauty to the whole. It is an ideal 
camping-ground and a strong rival to Gulmarg. 

Some fifteen miles beyond Sonamarg is the 
Zoji-la Pass leading to Ladak and Baltistan. It was 
by this pass that I first entered Kaslimir in 1887, 
and coming thus from the opposite direction, the 
change in scenery was most remarkable. For 
hundreds of miles from the northern side I had 
traversed country which though of the grandest 
description, was absolutely devoid of forest. The 
great mountains, sublime in their ruggedness and in 
the purity of their snowy mantle, were yet com- 
pletely barren. Then, of a sudden, as I crossed 
the Zoji-la all was changed in a moment, and I 
burst into one of the loveliest valleys in the world 
with glorious forests clothing every slope. It was 
a refreshing and delightful change, a relaxation 
from a sublimity too stern to bear for long, to the 


homely geniality of earthly Hfe, and the remem- 
brance of it still lies fresh upon my memory. 

Gangabal Lake 

About forty miles from Srinagar, and lying at 
the foot of the great peak Haramokh, is the 
remarkable Gangabal Lake. It is reached by a 
steep pull of 4000 feet from the Sind valley. By 
the side of the path rushes a clear, ice - cold 
stream. From the top of the rise are superb views 
precipitously down to the Wangat valley leading 
up from the Sind and beyond it to a jagged range 
of spires and pinnacles. The path then leads over 
rolling downs, covered in summer with ranunculus 
and primulas, to a chain of torquoise and ice-green 
lakes, above which grimly towers the massive 
Haramokh six thousand feet above the water, and 
giving birth to voluminous glistening glaciers which 
roll down to the water's edge. 

It is a silent, solitary, and impressive spot, and is 
held in some reverence by the Hindus. 

The Loi.ab 

The Lolab is the western end of the vale of 
Kashmir, and is remarkable rather for the homely 




picturesqueness of its woodland and village beauty 
than for the grandeur of its scenery. It is usually 
reached by boat up the Pohru River three miles 
below Sopur. In two days the limit of navigation 
at Awatkula is reached. From thence the road 
leads to Kofwara, eight miles, and Lalpura, the 
chief place, twelve miles farther. The hill-sides 
are entirely clothed with thick forests of deodar and 
pine. In the valley bottom are beautiful stretches 
of soft green turf. Dotted over it are villages 
buried in park-like clumps of walnut, apple, and 
pear trees ; and numerous streams ripple through 
on every side. For forest and village scenery it is 
nowhere excelled. It is like a series of English 
woodland glades, with the additional beauty of 
snowy peaks in the background. 

The Lidar Valley 

A favourite side-valley is the Lidar, for which 
the road takes off from the main valley at 
Bijbehara. It is not of such wild rocky grandeur 
as the Sind valley, but has milder beauties of its 
own, charming woodland walks, and in summer a 
wealth of roses pink and white, jasmine, forget-me- 
nots, a handsome spiraea, strawberry, honeysuckle. 


etc. By the side of the road runs the cool, 
foaming Lidar stream, and everywhere are villages 
hidden amongst masses of chenar, w^alnut, and 

On the left bank one and a half miles from 
Islamabad is the famous spring of Baw^an — a great 
tank under cool chenar trees. The spring is sacred 
to Vishnu, and is in the charge of Brahmins, who 
keep a book in which visitors have inscribed their 
names since 1827. The tank is full of fishes fed 
by the Brahmins, and thousands dash to catch the 
bread when thrown into the water. Altogether the 
village and the cool spring welling out of the 
mountain-side, and the whole shaded by magnificent 
old chenar trees, form a most attractive spot well 
worth a visit. 

Twenty-four miles from Bijbehara, or twenty- 
eight from Islamabad, is Pahlgam, always the camp- 
ing-ground of several visitors during the summer. 
Here, too. Colonel Ward for many years has resided 
in the summer in a small house built by himself, 
but now taken over by the State. I fancy life 
here is dull compared with life at Gulmarg, but for 
those who wish to vegetate and lead an absolutely 
quiet existence Pahlgam is admirably suited. It 
is two thousand feet higher than Srinagar. The 




camping-ground is in a wood of blue pines, and the 
fresh, clear, pine-scented air is refreshing after the 
stuffy main valley in midsummer. 

Above Pahlgam the valley bifurcates, one 
branch going to Aru, by which a road leads over 
a troublesome pass into the Sind valley ; and the 
other leading to Shisha Nag and to the famous 
caves of Amarnath, the resort of many hundreds of 
pilgrims in July and August. Immediately beyond 
Pahlgam, on this latter route, the path leads 
through beautiful woods with fine views of rocky 
heights and snowy peaks. Numerous maiden-hair 
and other ferns, primulas, crane's bill, gentians, and 
many other well-known flowers line the road-side. 
Above the wood line are fine grassy uplands 
frequented by Gujars with their cattle, ponies, 
buffaloes, sheep, and goats. Lidarwat is a lovely 
camping-ground in a green lawn fringed by a deep 
belt of trees. Beyond is the Kolahoi glacier, the 
road to which leads over a wide and treeless valley, 
and in places crosses snow bridges. The camping- 
ground is 11,000 feet above sea-level, and is set in 
a circle of stately peaks. The end of the glacier is 
of grey ice, and so strewn over with fragments of 
grey rock as hardly to be recognisable as ice, though 
the ice is, in fact, two hundred feet thick. Above 



it rises the bold peak of Kolahoi, so conspicuous 
in its sharp needle form from Guhnarg, and six 
thousand feet above the glacier. 

The cave of Amarnath is about 41 miles from 
Pahlgam, and is about 13,000 feet above sea-level. 
It is therefore above all tree vegetation, and 
is set in wild and impressive scenery. The cave 
itself is of gypsum, and is fifty yards long by fifty 
broad at the mouth, and thirty at the centre. 
Inside is a frozen spring which is the object of 
worship, and beside it is a noble glacier and bold 
and rugged cliffs. 


Of all the ruins in Kashmir the Martand ruins 
are both the most remarkable and the most 
characteristic. No temple was ever built on a 
finer site. It stands on an open i plain, where it 
can be seen to full advantage. Behind it rises 
a range of snowy mountains. And away in the 
distance before it, first lies the smiling Kashmir 
valley, and then the whole length of the Pir Panjal 
range, their snowy summits mingling softly with 
the azure of the sky. It is one of the most 
heavenly spots on earth, not too grand to be 




overpowering, nor too paltry to be lacking in 
strength and dignity, and it is easy to understand 
the impulse which led a people to here raise a 
temple to heaven. 

The temple of Martand is the finest example 
of what is known as the Kashmirian style of 
architecture, and was built by the most noted 
of the Kashmir kings. Lalataditya, who reigned 
between the years 699 and 736 a.d. 

Apart from its site it cannot be considered 
one of the really great ruins of the world ; but 
yet there is about it a combination of massiveness 
and simplicity, and of solidity combined with grace, 
which have earned it fame for a thousand years. 
There is something of the rigidity and strength 
of the Egyptian temples, and something of the 
grace of the buildings of Greece. Yet it is neither 
so Egyptian nor so Grecian as the one or the 
other. Though Hindu, it differs from the usual 
Hindu types ; and is known distinctively as Kash- 
mirian. It is, however, decidedly Hindu, and not 
either Buddhist or Jain, and owes much to the 
influence of Gandhara, while the sculptures show, 
according to Marshal, a close connection with the 
typical Hindu work of the late Gupta period. 



At the eastern end of the valley is another of 
the JNIoghal gardens, at the spot where quite a 
little river comes gushing straight out of the 
mountain -side. Leaving the house -boat at 
Kanibal, near Islamabad, we ride through a 
charming country, not so flat and swampy as the 
lower portion of the valley. We approach the 
semicircle of mountains which bound the valley 
on the east. Numerous streams rush down from 
the mountains. The valley is divided up into rice- 
fields, and is everywhere dotted over with hamlets 
hidden among chenar, mulberry, walnut, and pear 
or apple trees. Passing through one of these 
villages, which is alive with running water, and 
completely overshadowed by massive chenar trees, 
we enter a garden of the usual Moghal type, 
with a straight line of fountains and waterfalls, 
and an avenue of chenars. At the head of the 
garden is the mountain-side covered with deodar 
forest, and welling out of the mountain is a 
rushing stream of clean, clear water. It is a 
delicious and remarkable sight ; but I think the 
spot would be more beautiful if the natural condi- 
tions had been preserved, and the artificial garden 




and unsightly buildings had not been constructed 
round it. For they only serve to hide the magnifi- 
cent prospect right down the length of the Kashmir 
valley and ,the snowy mountains on either hand. 

It is, however, in spite of this a fascinating 
spot, and the camp which the Maharaja pitched 
here for the entertainment of Lord Minto was 
the prettiest I have ever seen, for the lines of 
the tents accorded with the formality of the 
garden, and the running water, the fountains, 
and the waterfalls gave a special charm to the 



Sport is, as is well known, one of the chief attrac- 
tions of Kashmir. Every year, like the swallows, 
with the coming of spring, tonga loads of ardent 
sportsmen begin swarming into the country. Now- 
adays they cannot, as formerly, shoot wherever 
they like and as much as they like ; and in their 
own interests it is well they cannot, for if they still 
had the freedom of former days no game would now 
be left. For some years past a Game Preservation 
Department has been formed by the Maharaja, and 
placed under the charge of a retired British officer, 
that keen sportsman Major Wigram. Licences to 
shoot have now to be taken out, and regulations for 
sportsmen are published annually. Certain locali- 
ties are strictly preserved for the Maharaja's own 
use and for the entertainment of his guests. Others 
are reserved for Raja Sir Amar Singh. Others 




again as sanctuaries. The number of head of the 
various kind of game which a sportsman may 
shoot is laid down. The number of sportsmen 
which may be permitted to visit each locality in 
the year is fixed. And regulations determine 
how the places are allotted among the numerous 
applicants. Major Wigram has also under him an 
establishment to prevent poaching by the natives, 
and he himself is incessantly touring and keeping 
a watch on the due preservation of the game. 
He obtains an income of about Rs. 25,000 per 
annum from the sale of licences, and spends about 
Rs. 20,000. 

Under these conditions sport in Kashmir will 
always remain. The total bags of big game for 
the last two years are : — 



Ibex . . . . 

. 219 



. 51 


Stags .... 

. 49 


Black bears 

. 223 


Brown bears 

. 62 



. 22 



. 100 



. 64 


Goa . . . . 

. 57 


Ovis ammon 

. 16 


These figures do not ind 

ude what was shot in 



the Maharajas preserve, but they were not all 
shot within the limits of the Kashmir Province. 
They include also what was shot in the high 
mountains at the back of Kashmir proper — in 
Ladak, Baltistan, and Astor. 

In this last year it so happens that magnificent 
trophies were obtained. Captain Barstow shot a 
markhor of 61 inches, which is the largest "shot 
head " ever obtained, though a head measuring 63 
inches was once picked up. In the Kajnag moun- 
tains, which tower over the Jhelum River on the 
drive into Kashmir, one sportsman shot a markhor 
of 57^ inches, and several other heads of 50 were 
obtained last year. And as showing the pure luck 
which attends sport, it may be mentioned that 
Captam Barstow had never shot a markhor before 
he shot the record head. 

Three good ibex heads, measuring close on 50 
inches, were shot last year, and the other trophies 
shot were good. The reputation of Kashmir for 
sport is therefore being well maintained, though 
sportsmen have, in their own interest, to conform 
to more restriction than of old. 

Last year the record ibex was also obtained by 
a well-known Kashmir sportsman, though not in 
Kashmir. Mr. Frank Hadow shot a 59i-inch 



head, but had the bad luck to lose it in a stream 
while having it cleaned. 

In duck-shooting, too, last season was a record 
year. Mr. T. Kennard shot 325 duck in one day 
by himself. And Colonel Edwards twice shot 
over 200 to his own gun while shooting with 
others. But it would be a mistake to suppose that 
Mr. Kennard secured this record bag merely by 
good shooting, and by being placed down amidst a 
crowd of ducks as in a big ceremonial state shoot. 
Mr. Kennard is among the most scientific sports- 
men who have ever visited Kashmir. I first met 
him twenty years ago when he built the first 
house-boat ever seen in Kashmir. He used then 
to come out to Kashmir regularly every cold 
weather, and spend many happy months shooting 
small game in the Kashmir valley, markhor and 
ibex in Baltistan, the Gilgit district, and Astor, and 
stag in the Kashmir mountains. No man had a 
more glorious time, when Major Wigram and the 
whole Game Preservation Department were still 
unthought of, and at a time of year when game 
was most easily obtained, and all the sportsmen in 
India were bound down to their official duties. 
After an interval of several years Mr. Kennard 
returned last year to Kashmir for yet another 




shoot. He set to work in a most methodical and 
business-like way. He studied his ground well. 
He found out exactly when most ducks came. 
He studied their habits. He spared himself no 
labour and neglected no detail. And he devoted 
the entire cold weather to this single sport. 

Besides duck and goose shooting there is 
excellent chikore shooting on the hill-sides, and a 
few manaul pheasants may also be shot. 

The Maharaja's preserves have for many years 
been under the management of that old and ex- 
perienced sportsman and naturalist, Colonel Ward, 
to whose book, the Sportsman s Guide to Kashmir 
and Ladak, all those who want full information on 
shooting in Kashmir should refer. 

And in addition to shooting, trout-fishing will 
soon be established as a further attraction to the 

Some years ago a number of keen fishermen 
banded together, and after some failure and much 
trouble, and with the assistance of the State 
authorities in Kashmir and of the Duke of Bedford 
in England, succeeded in introducing the ova of 
the English brown trout into the valley. Under 
the special charge of Mr. Frank Mitchell a hatchery 
has been established at Harwan, nine miles out of 



Srinagar, just beyond the Shalimar garden, and at 
the outlet of the Dachigam — a perfect trout stream 
— the valley of which is preserved for the Maharaja's 

From these stock ponds a trout weighing twelve 
and a half pounds was taken on Lord Minto's 
visit in 1908. The Dachigam stream itself is now 
well stocked, and affords some excellent fishing to 
those who have obtained His Highness permission. 
In addition aged ova and yearling trout have been 
sent to other streams in Kashmir — to the Achibal, 
Beoru, Wangat, Vishu, Kishenganga at Bad wan, 
the Liddar at Aru and Tannin, Marwar, Erin. 
Yearlings have also been let out in the Burzil 
stream, the Gorai (on the north side of the Tragbal 
Pass), in the Gangarbal Lake, and in the Punch 

It has been proved satisfactorily that when the 
snow-water has run off, the biggest trout will take 
a fly put to them at the right moment, though 
when the snow-water is coming down there are 
few flies rising and the fish do not take. A 
constant enemy of the trout is the poacher. 
English trout are, unfortunately, becoming very 
popular among the Kashmirs, and it is difficult to 
protect the fishing. The biggest trout caught so 



far is a nine-pounder caught in the Dachigam 
stream when the trout have been let out some 
years. In the summer of 1908 a fish weighing 
two and a half pounds, which must have been one 
of the yearlings turned out in 1906, was caught in 
the Vishu stream. By both Major Wigram and 
Mr. Frank INIitchell great attention is being paid 
to the development of trout-fishing. 

Seeing the success which has attended the 
introduction of trout the Maharaja on the occasion 
of Lord Minto's visit ordered the importation of 
the ova of the huchon {Salmo Hucho)^ or so-called 
Danube salmon. Mr. Frank Mitchell in the 
spring of 1908 successfully introduced them, and 
about 2000 hatched out in the Harwan hatcheries. 
They will probably be put out in the rapids of the 
Jhelum River below Baramula, and as they run to 
some 26 lbs. in weight, and are known to be one 
of the most sporting as well as the largest of the 
Salmonidas, they should afford another welcome 
attraction for the sportsman in Kashmir. 



Kashmir is very generally renowned for the 
beauty of its women and the deftness and taste 
of its shawl-weavers. And this reputation is, I 
think, well deserved. Sir Walter Lawrence indeed 
says that he has seen thousands of women in 
the villages, and cannot remember, save one or 
two exceptions, ever seeing a really beautiful 
face. But whether it is that Sir Walter was 
unfortunate, or that he is particularly hard to 
please, or that villages are not the abodes of 
Kashmir beauties, certain it is that the visitor, 
with an ordinary standard of beauty, as he passes 
along the river or the roads and streets, does see a 
great many more than one or two really beautiful 
women. He will often see strikingly handsome 
women, with clear-cut features, large dark eyes, 
well-marked eyebrows, and a general Jewish appear- 




ance. As to the deftness and taste of the weavers 
the shawls themselves are the best testimony. 

The population of the whole Kashmir State is 
2,905,578, and of the Kashmir Province 1,157,394. 
Of these 93 per cent of the Kashmir Province and 
74 per cent of the whole State are Mohamedan, and 
the remainder chiefly Hindu. But the rulers are 
Hindus, and consequently the Mohamedans are as 
much in the shade as Hindus are in States ruled 
by Mohamedans. The ruling family is also alien, 
coming not from the valley itself, but from Jammu, 
on the far side of the mountain to the south. 

The inhabitants were not, however, always 
Mohamedans. Originally they were Hindus. It 
was only in the fourteenth century that they 
were converted — mostly by force — to become 
Mohamedans. The present indigenous Hindus 
of the valley are generally known as Pundits, and 
Kashmir Pundits are well known over India for 
their acuteness and subtlety of mind, their in- 
telligence and quick-wittedness. They prefer 
priestly, literary, and clerical occupation, but in 
the severe competition of life many have been 
compelled to make more use of their hands 
than their brains, and have had to take up agri- 
culture, and become cooks, bakers, confectioners, 


and tailors, and, indeed, to follow any trade except 
the following which, according to Lawrence, are 
barred to them — cobbler, potter, corn-frier, porter, 
boatman, carpenter, mason, or fruit-seller. It is 
hard for us occidentals to understand why the line 
should have been drawn at these apparently 
harmless occupations, but those of us who have 
lived in India know that the Hindu does fix his 
lines with extraordinary sharpness and rigidity, and 
a Kashmir Pundit would as much think of working 
as a boatman as an English gentleman would think 
of wearing a black tie at a formal dinner-party. 

The Kashmir Pundits are essentially towns- 
people, and out of the total number about half 
live in the city of Srinagar. But they are also 
scattered sparsely through the villages, where the 
visitor will easily distinguish them by the caste 
mark on the forehead. On the whole they have 
a cultured look about them and a superior bearing. 

The Mohamedans, forming the large majority 
of the population, strictly speaking having no caste, 
are engaged in various occupations, and found in 
every grade of social life. And the Mohamedan 
gentleman of good position has something singularly 
attractive about him. He combines dignity with 



deference to a noteworthy degree, and between 
him and the European there is not that gulf of 
caste fixed which makes such a bar to intercourse 
with Hindus. Not that the Mohamedans of 
India have not absorbed to a certain degree the 
atmosphere of caste with which they are surrounded. 
Tliey are not so entirely free in their customs 
and behaviour as their co-religionists in purely 
Mohamedan countries. When travelling in 
Turkestan I lived with Mohamedans, slept in 
their houses and tents, ate with them, and 
generally consorted with them with a freedom 
that Mohamedans in India would think prejudicial 
to some vague sense of caste which, theoretically, 
they are not supposed to have, but which in 
practice they have absorbed from the atmosphere 
of Hinduism which they breathe. The Mohamedan, 
even of Kashmir, is not quite so unrestricted as the 
Mohamedan of Central Asia. Still, he is a very 
attractive gentleman, and though not easily found, 
for nowadays he lives in some pride of seclusion, 
and in the pestering importunate merchant the 
visitor sees but a sorry representative of the class, 
yet he is occasionally met with — grave, sedate, 
polite, and full of interesting conversation, and 
bearing with him a sense of former greatness when 




his religion was in the ascendant in the seats of 
power. These old-fashioned Mohamedan gentle- 
men have little or no English education, but they 
have a culture of their own ; and among the mullas 
may be found men of great learning. 

Other interesting types of Kashmir Mohamedans 
are found among the headmen of the picturesque 
little hamlets along the foot-hills. Here may be 
seen fine old patriarchal types, just as we picture 
to ourselves the Israelitish heroes of old. Some, 
indeed, say, though I must admit without much 
authority, that these Kashmiris are of the lost 
tribes of Israel. Only this year there died in the 
Punjab the founder of a curious sect, who 
maintained that he was both the INIessiah of the 
Jews and the Mahdi of the Mohamedans ; that 
Christ had never really died upon the Cross, but 
had been let down and had disappeared, as He 
had foretold, to seek that which was lost, by which 
He meant the lost tribes of Israel ; and that He 
had come to Kashmir and was buried in Srinagar. 
It is a curious theory, and was worked out by this 
founder of the Quadiani sect in much detail. There 
resided in Kashmir some 1900 years ago a saint of 
the name of Yus Asaf, who preached in parables 




and used many of the same parables as Christ used, 
as, for instance, the parable of the sower. His 
tomb is in Srinagar, and the theory of this founder 
of the Quadiani sect is that Yus Asaf and Jesus 
are one and the same person. 

When the people are in appearance of such a 
decided Jewish cast it is curious that such a theory 
should exist ; and certainly, as I have said, there 
are real Biblical types to be seen everywhere in 
Kashmir, and especially among the upland villages. 
Here the Israelitish shepherd tending his flocks 
and herds may any day be seen. 

Yet apart from this, the ordinary Kashmiri 
villager is not an attractive being. Like his house 
he is dirty, untidy, and slipshod, and both men and 
women wear the most unbecoming clothing, without 
either shape, grace, or colour. But the physique of 
both men and women is excellent. They are of 
medium height, but compared with the people of 
India of exceptional muscular strength. The men 
carry enormous loads. In the days before the 
cart-road was constructed, they might be seen 
carrying loads of apples sometimes up to and over 
200 lbs. in weight ; and the labour they do in the 
rice-fields is excessively severe. 

Good as is their physique, the Kashmiris are, how- 




ever, for some quite unaccountable reason lamentably 
lacking in personal courage. A Kashmiri soldier 
is almost a contradiction in terms. There is not 
such a thing. They will patiently endure and suffer, 
but they will not fight. And they are very careful of 
the truth. As an American once said to me, they set 
such value on the truth that they very seldom use it. 

Their good points are, that they are intelligent 
and can turn their hands to most things. They 
are, says Lawrence, excellent cultivators when 
they are working for themselves. A Kashmiri 
can weave good woollen cloth, make first-rate 
baskets, build himself a house, make his own 
sandals, his own ropes, and a good bargain. He is 
kind to his wife and children, and divorce scandals 
or immorality among villagers are rarely heard of. 

He is not a cheery individual, like many hillmen 
in the Himalayas, but he seems to be fond of 
singing ; and dirty as he, his wife, his house and 
all that belongs to him is, he has one redeeming 
touch of the sesthetic — all round the village he 
plants his graves with iris and narcissus. The final 
conclusion one has, then, is that if only he would 
wash, if only he would dress his wife in some 
brighter and cleaner clothes, and if only he would 
make his house stand upright, then with the good 



points he already has, and with all Nature to back 
him, he would make Kashmir literally perfection. 

The boatmen, who are the class with whom 
visitors to Kashmir come most intimately into 
contact, are a separate tribe from the villagers. 
They are said to claim Noah as their ancestor, and 
certain it is that if they did not borrow the pattern 
of their boats from Noah's ark, Noah must have 
borrowed the pattern from them. They are known 
as Hanji or Manjis, and live permanently on 
their boats with their families complete. Some of 
these boats will carry between six and seven 
thousand pounds of grain. Others are light 
passenger boats. They all have their little cooking 
place on board, and a gigantic wooden pestle and 
mortar in which the women pound the rice. Both 
men and women have extremely fluent and sharp 
tongues, and have not so far earned the reputation 
for truthfulness. But they are quick-witted, and 
can turn their hands to most things, and make 
themselves useful in a variety of ways. 

Besides carrying goods and passengers among the 
numerous waterways of Kashmir, some gather the 
singhare (water nuts) on the Wular Lake, others 
work market gardens on the Dal Lake, others fish, 
and others dredge for driftwood in the rivers. 




A COUNTRY of such striking natural beauty must, 
surely, at some period of its history have produced 
a refined and noble people ? Amid these glorious 
mountains, breathing their free and bracing air, and 
brightened by the constant sunshine, there must 
have sprung a strong virile and yet aesthetic 
race ? The beautiful Greece, with its purple hills 
and varied contour, its dancing seas and clear blue 
sky, produced the graceful Greeks. But Kashmir 
is more beautiful than Greece. It has the same 
blue sky and brilliant sunshine, but its purple hills 
are on a far grander scale, and if it has no sea, it has 
lake and river, and the still more impressive snowy 
mountains. It has, too, greater variety of natural 
scenery, of field and forest, of rugged mountain 
and open valley. And to me who have seen both 
countries, Kashmir seems much the more likely to 



impress a race by its natural beauty. Has it ever 
made any such impression ? 

The shawls for which the country is noted are 
some indication that its inhabitants have a sense of 
form and colour, and some delicacy and refine- 
ment. But a great people would have produced 
something more impressive than shawls. Are there 
no remains of buildings, roads, aqueducts, canals, 
statues, or any other such mark by which a people 
leaves its impress on a country ? And is there any 
literature or history ? 

All over the Kashmir valley there are remains 
of temples remarkable for their almost Egyptian 
solidity, simplicity, and durability, as well as for 
what Cunningham describes as the graceful elegance 
of their outlines, the massive boldness of their 
parts, and the happy propriety of their outlines. 
The ancient Kashmirian architecture, with its 
noble fluted pillars, its vast colonnades, its lofty 
pediments, and its elegant trefoiled arches, is, 
he thinks, entitled to be classed as a distinct style ; 
and we may take it as implying the existence of 
just such a people as this mountain country might 
be expected to produce. Three miles beyond Uri, 
on the road into Kashmir, are the ruins of a temple 
of extremely pleasing execution. Near Buniar, 




just beyond Rampur, is another right on the road. 
At Patan, 13 miles before reaching Srinagar, are 
two more ruined temples of massive construction. 
Two and a half miles southward of Shadipur, the 
present junction of the Sind River with the 
Jhelum, are the remains of a town, the extent and 
nature of which show conclusively that it must 
once have been a large and important centre. On 
the summit of the hill, rising above the European 
quarter in Srinagar, is a dome-shaped temple 
erroneously known as the Takht-i-Suliman. At 
Pandrathan, three miles from Srinagar, is a 
graceful little temple and the remains of a statue 
of Buddha, and of a column of immense strength 
and size. At Pampur and Avantipur, on the 
road to Islamabad at Payech, on the southern 
side of the valley, where there is the best preserved 
specimen temple, and at many other places in the 
main valley, and in the Sind and Lidar valleys, 
there are remains of temples of much the same 
style. But it is at Martand that there is the 
finest, and as it is not only typical of Kashmir 
architecture at its best, but is built on the most 
sublime site occupied by any building in the 
world, — finer far than the site of the Parthenon, 
or of the Taj, or of St. Peters, or of the Escurial, 


— we may take it as the representative, or rather 
the euhnination of all the rest, and by it we must 
judge the people of Kashmir at their best. 

On a perfectly open and even plain, gently 
sloping away from a background of snowy 
mountains, looking directly out on the entire 
length both of the smiling Kashmir valley and of 
the snowy ranges which bound it — so situated, in 
fact, as to be encircled by, yet not overwhelmed 
by, snowy mountains — stand the ruins of a temple 
second only to the Egyptians in massiveness and 
strength, and to the Greek in elegance and grace. 
It is built of immense rectilinear blocks of lime- 
stone, betokening strength and durability. Its 
outline and its detail are bold, simple, and im- 
pressive. And any over-weighing sense of massive- 
ness is relieved by the elegance of the surrounding 
colonnade of graceful Greek-like pillars. It is 
but a ruin now, but yet, with the other ruins so 
numerous in the vallev, and so similar in their main 
characteristics, it denotes the former presence in 
Kashmir of a people worthy of study. No one 
without an eye for natural beauty would have 
chosen that special site for the construction of a 
temple, and no one with an inclination to the 
ephemeral and transient would have built it on 




so massive and enduring a scale. We cannot, 
for instance, imagine present-day Kashmiris build- 
ing anything so noble, so simple, so true, and 
so enduring. The people that built the ancient 
temples of Kashmir must have been religious, 
for the remains are all of temples or of sacred 
emblems, and not of palaces, commercial offices, 
or hotels ; they must have held, at least, one large 
idea to have built on so enduring a scale, and 
they must have been men of strong and simple 
tastes, averse to the paltry and the florid. What 
was their history ? Were they a purely indigenous 
race ? Were they foreigners and conquerors settled 
in the land, or were they a native race, much 
influenced from outside, and with sufficient 
pliabihty to assimilate that influence and turn it 
to profitable use for their own ends ? 

Fortunately one of their native historians has 
left us a record, and Dr. Stein's skill and industry 
in translating and annotating this record makes it 
possible to obtain a fairly clear idea of ancient 
Kashmir. From this and from the style of the 
ruins themselves, we gather that the main impulses 
came from outside rather than from within, from 
India and from Greece. And perhaps, if in place 
of their mountains, which tend to seclusion and 




cut a people off from the full effects of that 
important factor m the development of a race, 
easy intercourse and strenuous rivalry with 
other peoples, the Kashmirians had, like the 
Greeks, been in contact with the sea, with ready 
access to other peoples and other civilisations, 
they might have made a greater mark in the 
worlds history. But they had this advantage, 
that the beauty of their country must always, as 
now, in itself have been an attraction to outsiders, 
and so from the very commencement of its 
authentic history we find strong outside influences 
at work in the country. 

Thus among the first authentic facts we can 
safely lay hold of from among the misty and elusive 
statements of exuberant Oriental historians, is 
the fact that Asoka's sovereign power extended 
to Kashmir — Asoka, the contemporary of Hannibal, 
and the enthusiastic Buddhist ruler of India, whose 
kingdom extended from Bengal to the Deccan, 
to Afghanistan and to the Punjab, and the results 
of whose influence may be seen to this day in 
Kashmir, in the remains of Buddhist temples 
and statues, and in the ruins of cities founded 
by him 250 years before Christ, 200 years before 




the Romans landed in Britain, and 700 years before 
what is now known as England had yet been 
trodden by truly English feet. 

At this time Buddhism was the dominating 
religion in northern India, and perhaps received 
an additional impulse from the Greek kingdoms 
in the Punjab, planted by Alexander the Great 
as the result of his invasion in 327 B.C. Asoka 
had organised it on the basis of a state religion, 
he had spread the religion with immense en- 
thusiasm, and in Kashmir he caused stupas and 
temples to be erected, and founded the original 
city of Srinagar, then situated on the site of the 
present village of Pandrathan, three miles above 
the existing capital. He had broken through 
the fetters of Brahminism and established a 
friendly intercourse with Greece and Egypt, and 
it is to this connection that the introduction of 
stone architecture and sculpture is due. The 
Punjab contains many examples of Grseco-Buddhist 
art, and Kashmir history dawns at the time when 
Greek influence was most prominent in India. 

The first great impulse which has left its 
mark on the ages came, then, not from within, but 
from without — not from within Kashmir, but from 
India, Greece, and Egypt. Little, indeed, now 


remains of that initial movement. The religion 
which was its mainspring has now not a single 
votary among the inhabitants of the valley. The 
city Asoka founded has long since disappeared. 
But the great record remains ; and on a site 
beautiful even for Kashmir, where the river sweeps 
gracefully round to kiss the spur on which the 
city was built, and from whose sloping terraces the 
inhabitants could look out over the smiling fields, 
the purple hills, and snowy mountain summits of 
their lovely country, there still exist the remnants 
of the ancient glory as the last, but everlasting 
sign that once great men ruled the land. 

The next great landmark in Kashmir history 
is the reign of the king Kanishka, the Indo- 
Scythian ruler of upper India. He reigned about 
40 A.D., when the Romans were conquering Britain 
and Buddhism was just beginning to spread to 
China. He was of Turki descent, and was part of 
that wave of Scythian immigration which for two 
or three hundred years came pouring down from 
Central Asia. And he was renowned through- 
out the Buddhist world as the pious Buddhist 
king, who held in Kashmir the famous Third 
Great Council of the Church which drew up the 



Northern Canon or " Greater Vehicle of the Law.' 
In his time, too, there iived at a site which is 
still traceable at Harwan, nestling under the higher 
mountains at the entrance of one of the attractive 
side-valleys of Kashmir, and overlooking the placid 
waters of the Dal I^ake, a famous Bodhisattva, 
Nagarjuna, who from this peaceful retreat exer- 
cised a spiritual lordship over the land. 

Buddhism was, in fact, at the zenith of its power 
in Kashmir. But a reaction against it was soon to 
follow, and from this time onward the orthodox 
Brahministic Hinduism, from which Buddhism was 
a revolt, reasserted itself, and Buddhism steadily 
waned. When the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim 
Hiuen Tsiang visited Kashmir, about a.d. 631, he 
said, " This kingdom is not much given to the faith, 
and the temples of the heretics are their sole 

Passing now over a period of six centuries, the 
only authentically recorded event in which is the 
reign, a.d. 515, of Mihirakula, the White Hun," 
a persecutor of the Buddhist faith, "a man of 
violent acts and resembling Death," whose approach 
the people knew " by noticing the vultures, crows, 
and other birds which were flying ahead eager to 
feed on those who were to be slain," and who 



succeeded to a kingdom which extended to Kabul 
and Central India, we come to the reign of the 
most famous king in Kashmir history, and the first 
really indigenous ruler of note — Lalitaditya. And 
of his reign we must take especial notice as 
Kashmir was then at its best. 

Whether Lalitaditya was a pure Kashmiri it 
is impossible to discover. His grandfather, the 
founder of the dynasty to which he belonged, was 
a man of humble origin — whether Kashmiri or 
foreign the historian does not relate — who was 
connected by marriage with the preceding ruling 
family. His mother was the mistress of a merchant 
settled in Srinagar. The dynasty which his grand- 
father succeeded was foreign, and it is impossible, 
therefore, to say how much foreign blood Lalitaditya 
had in his veins ; but his family had at any rate been 
settled in Kashmir for a couple of generations, and 
Kashmir was not in his time the mere appanage 
of a greater kingdom, but was a distinct and isolated 
kingdom in itself. From this time for many 
centuries onwards, till the time of Akbar, the tide 
of conquest and political influence was to turn, and 
instead of more advanced and masterful races from 
the direction of India spreading their influence 



over Kashmir, it was from Kashmir that conquerors 
were to go forth to extend their sway over neigh- 
bouring districts in the Punjab. 

Lahtaditya's reign extended from about 699 
to 736. He was therefore a contemporary of 
Charlemagne, and preceded our own King Alfred 
by more than a century. Mohamed was already 
dead a hundred years, but his religion had not 
yet spread to India. The Kashmiri historians 
speak of Lahtaditya's " conquering the world, " and 
mix up much fable with fact. But what certainly 
is true is that he asserted his authority over the 
hilly tracts of the northern Punjab, that he 
attacked and reduced the King of Kanauj to sub- 
mission, that he conquered the Tibetans, success- 
fully invaded Badakhshan in Central Asia, and 
sent embassies to Peking. 

Though, then, he was not the "universal 
' monarch ' that the historian described him, and did 
not move round the earth like the sun," or " putting 
his foot on the islands as if they were stepping- 
stones, move quickly and without difficulty over the 
ocean," he is yet the most conspicuous figure in 
Kashmir history, and raised his country to a pitch 
of glory it had never reached before or attained 
to since. It was he who erected the temple at 


Martand ; and the ruins of the city Parihasapura, 
near the present Shadipur, are an even fuller 
testimony to his greatness. These, therefore, we 
must regard as the most reliable indication we have 
of the degree of culture and civilisation to which 
Kashmir attained in its most palmy day twelve 
hundred years ago. 

Lalitaditya s rule was followed by a succession 
of short and weak reigns, but his grandson was 
almost as great a hero of popular legend as himself. 
He too, "full of ambition, collected an army and 
set out for the conquest of the world." He reached 
the Ganges and defeated the King of Kanauj, but 
had to return to Kashmir to subdue a usurper to 
his throne. He encouraged scholars and poets 
and founded cities. After him followed, first, " an 
indolent and profligate prince"; then a child in 
the hands of uncles, who as soon as he grew up 
destroyed him and put another child on the throne. 
He indeed maintained his position on the throne 
for 37 years, but only on account of the rivalries 
of the uncles, and as a mere puppet king, and was 
eventually deposed by the victorious faction to 
make place for yet another puppet king, who again 
was killed by a treacherous relative. So the 



record goes on till we come to the reign of 
Avantivarman, 855-883, and this appears to have 
brought a period of consolidation for the country, 
which must have greatly suffered economically as 
well as politically from the internal troubles during 
the preceding reigns. There is no indication of 
the reassertion of Kashmir sovereignty abroad, 
but there is ample proof of the internal recovery 
of the country, and the town of Avantipura, named 
after the king, has survived to the present day. It 
lies one march above Srinagar, and the ruins of 
the ancient buildings, though not equal in size to 
Lalitaditya's structures, yet rank, says Stein, 
among the most imposing monuments of ancient 
Kashmir architecture, and sufficiently attest the 
resources of the builder. 

This reign was, too, remarkable for the execution 
of an engineering scheme to prevent floods and 
drain the valley, a precisely similar idea to that on 
which Major de Lotbini^re is working under the 
direction of the present Maharaja. The Kashmiri 
engineer Suyya, after whom is named the present 
town of Sopur, saw more than a thousand years 
ago what modern engineers have also observed, that 
floods in the valley are due to the waters of the 
Jhelum not being able to get through the gorge 



three miles below Baramula with sufficient rapidity. 
The constricted passage gets blocked with boulders, 
and both Suyya and our present engineers saw that 
this obstruction must be removed. But while 
JNIajor de Lotbiniere imported electrically-worked 
dredgers from America and a dredging engineer 
from Canada, Suyya adopted a much simpler 
method : he threw money into the river where the 
obstruction lay. His contemporaries, as perhaps we 
also would have, looked upon him as a madman. 
But there was method in his madness, for the 
report had no sooner got about that there was money 
at the bottom of the river than men dashed in to 
find it, and rooted up all the obstructing boulders 
in their search. So at least says the legend. In 
any case the obstruction was removed by Suyya, 
and the result was the regulation of the course of 
the river, a large increase of land available for 
cultivation, and increased protection against dis- 
astrous floods. May the modern Suyya be equally 
successful 1 

The successor of Avantivarman, after defeating 
a cousin and other rivals to the throne, started on 
a round of foreign expedition, in the historian's 
words, " to revive the tradition of the conquest of 
the world." The practical result does not appear to 



have been much more than an invasion of Hazara, 
an attack on Kangra and the subjugation of what 
is now the town of Gujrat in the Punjab, since 
remarkable as the spot where we finally overthrew 
the power of the Sikhs. But the record is of 
interest, as showing that the conquering tendency 
was still from Kashmir outwards, and not from the 
Punjab into Kashmir. 

But this was the last outward effort, and from 
this reign onward the record is one long succession 
of struggles between the rulers and usurping uncles, 
cousins, brothers, ministers, nobles, and soldiers. 
The immediate successor was a child whose regent 
mother was under the influence of her paramour 
the Minister. After two years he was murdered 
by the Minister. Another boy succeeded who 
only lived ten days. Then the regent mother 
herself ruled for a couple of years, but a military 
faction overruled her councils, and by open re- 
bellion obtained the throne for a nominee of their 
own, and the land became oppressed by exactions 
of the soldiery backed by unscrupulous ministers. 
The Queen was captured and executed, and a 
disastrous flood and terrible famine increased the 
general misery. After two years' reign the soldiers' 


nominee was deposed and a child put in his place. 
Then there was a fresh revolution and still another 
nominee, who, as he could not pay a sufficient bribe 
to the soldiery, was deposed and the crown sold to 
the Minister. 

And now another power makes itself felt, the 
influence of the feudal landholders, whose interests 
had suffered from the prolonged predominance of 
the mihtary party. They marched upon Srinagar, 
defeated the soldiers, threw out the usurping 
minister, and restored the legitimate king, who, 
however, showed little gratitude, but abandoned 
himself to vile cruelties and excesses, till the feudal 
landholders became so exasperated that they 
treacherously murdered him at night within the 
arms of one of his low-caste queens. The successor 
was no better. He surpassed his predecessor in 
acts of senseless cruelty and wanton hcence, and 
was encouraged by his ambitious minister (who 
was scheming to secure the throne for himself) to 
destroy his own relatives. Some were murdered, 
and others captured and allowed to starve to death. 
He himself died after a reign of only two years, 
and his successor had to flee after occupying the 
throne for a few days. The commander-in-chief 
tried to seize it, but on placing the election in the 



hands of an assembly of Brahmins, they chose one 
of their own number, who for nine years, by a wise 
and mild rule, gained a respite from the constant 
troubles of previous reigns. Only a short respite, 
however, for on his death the aforementioned 
scheming minister, after first putting his rivals out 
of the way, forced an entrance to the palace, killed 
the successor of the Brahmin, and threw him into 
the Jhelum. He grossly oppressed the land for a 
year and a half, and then died of dropsy, to be 
succeeded by a youth grossly sensual and addicted 
to many vices, who married a princess of the house 
of Punch. This lady happened to have consider- 
able force of character, and when her son succeeded 
as a child, exercised as his guardian full royal power. 
She ruthlessly put down all rival parties, execut- 
ing captured rebels, exterminating their families. 
She even, on her son's death, murdered two of 
her own grandsons that she might herself retain 
power. Finally^ she fell in love with a letter-carrier 
who had begun life as a herdsman ; she appointed 
him her Minister, and he retained undisputed 
predominance over her for her reign of twenty- 
three years, his valour supplementing her cunning 
diplomacy and bribes in overcoming all opposition. 
The following reign, which was prudent, but 


weak, is noticeable from the fact that the famous 
JNlahmud of Ghazni, who forced Mohamedanism 
upon upper India, made an attempt, a.d. 1015, to 
invade Kashmir. It was unsuccessful, but it 
marks the first sign of the returning flood of 
invasion from the Punjab inwards to Kashmir. 
The outward flow had ceased. The inward was 
now to begin. 

In the meanwhile, until the Moghals, five 
hundred years later, finally established themselves 
in Kashmir, the ceaseless round of intrigue, 
treachery, and strife continued. The powerful 
herdsman minister and his son were foully murdered, 
and a succession of low favourites rose to power 
and plundered the people. A reign of twenty-two 
days which follows was terminated by the licentious 
mother killing her own son. Then comes a 
dangerous rising of the feudal landholders and 
more short reigns, murders, suicides, till we arrive 
at the reign of Harsa, 1089-1101, who is said to 
have been "the most striking figure among the 
later Hindu rulers of Kashmir." He was courageous 
and fond of display, and well versed in various 
sciences, and a lover of music and the arts, but 
" cruelty and kindheartedness, liberality and greed, 
violent self-willedness and reckless supineness, 



cunning and want of thought, in turn displayed 
themselves in his chequered life." He kept up a 
splendid Court and was munificent to men of learn- 
ing and poets. He also succeeded in asserting his 
authority in the hilly country outside Kashmir on 
the south. But he eventually became the object 
of conspiracies, and to put them down resorted to 
the cruellest measures. He had his half-brother, 
as well as his nephews, and some other relatives, 
who had given no cause for suspicion, heartlessly 
murdered. Extravagant expenditure on the troops 
and senseless indulgence in costly pleasures 
gradually involved Harsa in grave financial trouble, 
from which he endeavoured to free himself by 
ruthless spoliation of sacred shrines, and even by 
confiscating divine images made of any valuable 
metal. He was further reduced to the necessity 
of imposing new and oppressive imposts. All this 
misgovernment spread discontent and misery 
among the people ; and while the plague was 
raging, and robbers everywhere infesting the land, 
there occurred a disastrous flood which brought on a 
famine. A rising against Harsa was the result. He 
was slain in the fighting ; his head was cut off and 
burned, while his body, naked like that of a pauper, 
was cremated by a compassionate wood- dealer. 


The position of his successor, Vecula, was no 
less precarious than that of the generality of 
Kashmir rulers. His younger brother was ready 
to rise against him, and the leaders of feudal land- 
holders, to whose rebellion he owed his throne, 
behaved as the true rulers of the land. He pro- 
tected himself by fomenting jealousy and mutual 
suspicion, and murdered or exiled their most 
influential leaders, and then openly turned upon 
the remainder and forced them to disarm and 
submit. He also systematically persecuted the 
officials. On the other hand he showed considerate 
regard for the common people, and was on the 
whole a liberal, capable, and fairly energetic ruler. 
Nevertheless he, too, met with a violent end. The 
city-prefect and his brothers attacked him at night 
in the palace as, unarmed and attended only by a 
few followers, he was proceeding to the seraglio. 
He fought with desperate bravery, but was soon 
overpowered by his numerous assailants and cruelly 
murdered, December 1111. 

His immediate successor reigned only a few 
hours ; his half-brother only four months. He 
was then made prisoner by his brother, whose 
reign of eight years was one succession of internal 
troubles caused by rebellious and powerful land- 



holders whom he in vain tried to subdue. He 
imprisoned his Minister and the Ministers three 
sons, and finally had them all strangled. He 
executed with revolting cruelty some hostages of 
the landholders ; and, finally, in face of a rebellion 
caused by his cruelty and by his oppressive imposts, 
he had to fly from Srinagar to Punch. A pre- 
tender occupied the throne for a year, during 
which the people were at the mercy of bands of 
rebels, while rival ministers contended for what 
was left of regal power. Trade was at a standstill 
and money scarce. The rightful ruler returned 
and again occupied the throne, and, owing to the 
want of union among the feudal landholders, was 
able to retain it for another five years. But 
eventually he also met the usual fate of Kashmir 
kings, and was murdered. 

Jayashima, the successor, reigned for twenty-one 
years, though he had found his country in a pitiable 
state. The feudal landholders were like kings, 
while the resources of the King and people ahke 
were well - nigh exhausted by the preceding 
struggles. His predecessor had been unable by 
force to permanently reduce the power and pre- 
tensions of these petty nobles, and Jayashima tried 
to effect the same object by cunning diplomacy 



and unscrupulous intrigue. But he was no more 
successful, and they continued to preserve a 
rebellious, independent attitude for centuries later, 
far into the Mohamedan period. 

The accounts of this and the immediately pre- 
ceding reigns are of particular interest, because 
Kalhana, the historian to whom the facts are due, 
lived at this period. We get then a first-hand 
account of the state of Kashmir eight hundred 
years ago. It is a petty, melancholy, and sordid 
history, but it is the record of a contemporary, and 
I have no hesitation in adopting it as giving a true 
impression of the state of the country, because I 
have myself seen a precise counterpart of it in 
independent states on this very frontier. When I 
visited Hunza in 1889 the then chief — now in exile 
— had murdered his father, poisoned his mother, 
and thrown his two brothers over a precipice. The 
chief of Chitral, when I was there in 1893, was one 
of only four survivors of seventeen brothers who 
were living when their father died, and he himself 
was subsequently murdered by one of his three 
surviving brothers — a brother whom he had 
frequently asked my permission to murder, on the 
ground that if he did not murder the brother, the 


brother would murder him. In Chitral there was 
also the same struggle with " nobles " as is recorded 
of Kashmir, and murders of " nobles " were horribly 

We may accept, then, as authentic that the 
normal state of Kashmir for many centuries, except 
in the intervals when a strong, firm ruler came to 
the front, was a state of perpetual intrigue and 
assassination, of struggles with brothers, cousins, 
uncles, before a chief even came to the throne ; of 
fights for power with ministers, with the military, 
with the " nobles " when he was on it ; of constant 
fear ; of poisoning and assassination ; of wearying, 
petty internecine ** wars," and of general discomfort, 
uncertainty, and unrest. 

For two centuries more Hindu rule maintained 
itself, but it was steadily decaying. In the mean- 
while Mohamedanism had, especially in conse- 
quence of the invasion of Mahmud of Ghazni in 
1000 A.D., made great advances in the adjoining 
kingdoms of the Punjab ; and, in 1339, a 
Mohamedan ruler. Shah Mir, deposed the widow 
of the last Hindu ruler and founded a Mohamedan 
dynasty. The influx of foreign adventurers from 
Central Asia as well as from India had prepared 


tlie ground for Mohamedan rule, and when Shah 
Mir appeared there was little change in the system 
of administration, which remained as before in the 
hands of the traditional official class, the Brahmins. 

From this time till the Moghal emperors finally 
conquered Kashmir in 1586, there was, with one ex- 
ception, the usual succession of weak rulers and con- 
stant struggles between rival factions of territorial 
magnates. But this one exception is worthy of 
notice, as his reign is even now quoted by Kashmiris 
as the happiest of their history. Zain-ul-ab-ul-din 
(1420-70) was virtuous in his private life and liberal. 
He was the staunch friend of the cultivators, and 
built many bridges and constructed many canals. 
He was fond of sport, and was tolerant towards 
Brahmins, remitting the poll-tax on them, and 
encouraging them by grants of land. He also 
repaired some Hindu temples and revived Hindu 
learning. Further, he introduced many art-manu- 
factures from foreign countries, and his Court was 
thronged by poets, musicians, and singers. 

But this reign seems to have been a mere oasis 
in the dreary record, and it was followed by a 
succession of weak reigns till 1532, when a direct 
conquest of the country by a foreign invader was 
effected. In that year Mirza Haider, with a follow- 




ing which formed part of the last great wave of 
Turkis (or Moghals) from the north, invaded 
Kashmir and held it for some years. Then followed 
one last short period, during which Kashmir became 
once more the scene of long-continued strife among 
the great feudal families, who set up and deposed 
their puppet kings in rapid succession, till finally, 
in 1586, Kashmir was incorporated in the dominions 
of the great Akbar, the contemporary of Elizabeth, 
and remained as a dependency of the Moghal 
emperors for nearly two centuries. 

Akbar himself visited the country three times, 
made a land revenue settlement, and built the fort 
of Hari Parbat, which from its situation on an 
isolated hill, in a flat valley surrounded by moun- 
tains, bears some resemblance to the Potala at 
Lhasa. Akbar s successor, Jehangir, was devoted 
to Kashmir and he it was who built the stately 
pleasure gardens, the Shalimar and Nisliat Baghs, 
where we can imagine that he and his wife, the 
famous Nurmahal, for whom he built the Taj at 
Agra, must have spent many a pleasant summer 

The rule of the Moghals was fairly just and 
enlightened, and their laws and ordinances were 


excellent in spirit. Bernier, who visited Kashmir 
in the train of Aurungzebe, makes no allusion, as 
travellers of a subsequent date so frequently do, to 
the misery of the people, but, on the contrary, says 
of them that they are celebrated for wit, and 
considered much more intelligent and ingenious 
than the Indians." " In poetry and the sciences," 
he continues, " they are not inferior to the Persians, 
and they are also very active and industrious." 
And he notes the " prodigious quantity of shawls 
which they manufacture." Kashmir was indeed, 
according to Bernier, "the terrestrial paradise of 
the Indies." " The whole kingdom wears the 
appearance," he says, " of a fertile and highly 
cultivated garden. Villages and hamlets are 
frequently seen through the luxuriant fohage. 
Meadows and vineyards, fields of rice, wheat, hemp, 
saffron, and many sorts of vegetables, among which 
are mingled trenches filled with water, rivulets, 
canals, and several small lakes, vary the enchanting 
scene. The whole ground is enamelled with our 
European flowers and plants, and covered with our 
apple, pear, plum, apricot, and walnut trees, all 
bearing fruit in great abundance." 

All this and the absence of remarks on ruined 
towns and deserted villages, such as we shall hear so 



much of later on, implies prosperity. And of the 
governors of Kashmir under the Moghals, we read 
that many were enlightened, reduced taxation, and 
put down the oppression of petty officials. But as 
the Moghal Empire began to decay, the governors 
became more independent and high-handed. The 
Hindus were more oppressed. The officials fought 
among themselves, and Kashmir fell once more into 
wild disorder ; and eventually, in 1750, came under 
the cruellest and worst rule of all — the rule of the 
Afghans, who to this day are of all the oppressive 
rulers in the world the most tyrannical. The 
period of Afghan rule was, says Lawrence, a time 
of brutal tyranny, unrelieved by good works, 
chivalry, or honour." Men with interest were 
appointed as governors, who wrung as much money 
as they could out of the wretched people of the 
valley. It was said of them that they thought no 
more of cutting off heads than of plucking a flower. 
One used to tie up the Hindus, two and two, in 
grass sacks and sink them in the Dal Lake. The 
poll-tax on Hindus was revived, and many either 
fled the country, were killed, or converted to Islam. 

At last the oppression became so unendurable 
that the Kashmiris turned with hope to Ranjit 


Singh, the powerful Sikh ruler of the Punjab, who, 
after an unsuccessful attempt, finally in 1819, 
accompanied by Raja Gulab Singh of Jammu, 
defeated the Afghan governor and annexed Kashmir 
to his dominions. It came then once again under 
Hindu rulers, though in the meantime nine- 
tenths of the population had been converted to 

But the unfortunate country had still to suffer 
many ills. The Sikhs who succeeded the Afghans 
were not so barbarically cruel, but they were hard 
and rough masters. Moorcroft, who visited the 
country in 1824, says that "everywhere the people 
were in the most abject condition, exorbitantly 
taxed by the Sikh Government, and subjected to 
every kind of extortion and oppression by its 
officers . . . not one-sixteenth of the cultivable 
surface is in cultivation, and the inhabitants, starv- 
ing at home, are driven in great numbers to the 
plains of Hindustan." The cultivators were "in 
a condition of extreme wretchedness," and the 
Government, instead of taking only one-half of the 
produce on the threshing-floor, had now advanced 
its demands to three-quarters. Every shawl was 
taxed 26 per cent upon the estimated value, 
besides which there was an import duty on the 




wool with which they were manufactured, and a 
charge was made upon every shop or workman 
connected with the manufacture. Every trade 
was also taxed, "butchers, bakers, boatmen, 
vendors of fuel, public notaries, scavengers, 
prostitutes, all paid a sort of corporation tax, and 
even the Kotwal, or chief officer of justice, paid a 
large gratuity of thirty thousand rupees a year for 
his appointment, being left to reimburse himself 
as he might." 

Villages, where Moorcroft stopped in the Lolab 
direction, were half-deserted, and the few inhabit- 
ants that remained wore the semblance of extreme 
wretchedness. Islamabad was "as filthy a place 
as can well be imagined, and swarming with 
beggars." Shupaiyon was not half-inhabited, and 
the inhabitants of the country round, "half-naked 
and miserably emaciated, presented a ghastly picture 
of poverty and starvation." The Sikhs " seemed to 
look upon the Kashmirians as little better than 
cattle . . . the murder of a native by a Sikh is 
punished by a fine to the Government of from 
sixteen to twenty rupees, of which four rupees are 
paid to the family of the deceased if a Hindu, and 
two rupees if a Mohamedan." 

Vignes description is hardly more favourable. 



He visited Kashmir in 1835. Shupaiyon was "a 
miserable place, bearing the impression of once 
having been a thriving town. The houses were in 
ruins." Islamabad was '*but a shadow of its 
former self." The houses "present a ruined and 
neglected appearance, in wretched contrast with 
their once gay and happy condition, and speak 
volumes upon the light and joyous prosperity that 
has long fled the country on account of the shame- 
less rapacity of the ruthless Sikhs." The villages 
were fallen into decay. The rice-ground was 
uncultivated for want of labour and irrigation. 

Clearly the Kashmiris had not yet come to a 
haven of rest, but they were nearing it. 

The Raja Gulab Singh of Jammu has already 
been mentioned as accompanying Ranjit Singh's 
troops on their victorious march to Kashmir in 
1819. On the death of Ranjit Singh there was 
much violence and mutiny among the Sikh soldiery, 
and the Governor of Kashmir was murdered by 
them. Thereupon a body of about 5000 men, 
nominally under the command of the son of Slier 
Singh, Ranjit's successor, but really under the 
charge of Gulab Shigh, was sent to Kashmir to 
restore authority. This was in the year 1841, 




when the British were still behind the Sutlej, 
but were engaged in the fruitless and disastrous 
expedition to Kabul, which resulted in the murder 
of the envoy. Gulab Singh quelled the mutiny 
in Kashmir, placed there a governor of his own, 
and from this time he became virtual master of 
the valley, though till the year 1846 it nominally 
belonged to the Sikh rulers at Lahore. 

As he was the founder of the present ruling 
dynasty, it will be well to pause here to describe 
who he was and where he came from. He was 
what is known as a Dogra Rajput, that is, a Rajput 
inhabiting the Dogra country — the hilly country 
stretching down to the plains of the Punjab from 
the snowy range bounding Kashmir on the south. 
His far-av/ay ancestors were Rajputs who for 
generations had followed warlike operations. 
Originally settled in Oudh or in Rajputana they 
eventually moved to the Punjab, and settled at 
Mirpur in the Dogra country. One branch then 
migrated to Chamba, another to Kangra, and the 
one to which Gulab Singh belonged to Jammu, 
where the great-great-grand-uncle of Gulab Singh 
— Throv Deo — was during the middle of the 
eighteenth century a man of importance. In 1775 
the son of Throv Deo built the palace at Jammu, 



and about 1788 Gulab Singh was born. In 1807, 
when Ranjit Singh's troops were attacking Jammu, 
Gulab Singh so distinguished himself that he gained 
the favour of Ranjit Singh. He took service 
under the Sikh ruler, and with the assistance of his 
brother, Ranjit Singh's Dewan, acquired such 
influence that when the principality of Jammu had 
been annexed by the Sikhs, Ranjit Singh in 1818 
conferred it upon Gulab Singh, with the title of 
Raja. The brother, Dhyan Singh, was likewise 
made Raja of Punch, and the third brother, Raja 
of Ramnager. 

In the course of the next 15 years the three 
brothers subdued all the neighbouring principalities, 
and Gulab Singh's troops under Zorawar Singh 
had conquered Ladak and Baltistan, and even 
invaded Tibet, though there Zorawar Singh him- 
self was killed and his army annihilated. 

Thus when Ranjit Singh died in 1839 Gulab 
Singh, though still feudatory to the Sikh Govern- 
ment, had established his authority in Jammu and 
neighbouring principalities, and in Ladak and 
Baltistan, and he had a commanding influence in 
Kashmir then still under a Sikh governor. The 
traveller Vigne saw him in this year at Jammu, 
and speaks of him as feared for his cruelty and 




tyrannical exactions — very common and, it would 
almost appear, necessary characteristics of strong 
rulers in those unruly times — but he remarks on 
his tolerance and liberaHty in religious matters. 
He was never a popular ruler, and the people 
feared and dreaded him ; but he had courage and 
energy, and above all was successful. 

On Ranjit Singh's death all was once more in 
the melting-pot, and for a time it looked as if 
Gulab Singh would come crashing down even 
faster than he had risen. His influence at the 
Lahore Court was lost through the murder of his 
brother. He himself was attacked by the Sikhs 
and taken to Lahore. His fortunes were sinking 
rapidly. Then suddenly there was a turn in the 
wheel of fortune ; and the man who had started 
life as a courtier of Ranjit Singh, was confirmed 
in the possession not only of all that he had 
subsequently acquired by his own prowess, but 
also of the rich and beautiful vale of Kashmir as 
well. On the payment of three-quarters of a 
million sterling down, and of an annual tribute of 
one horse, twelve goats, and six pairs of shawls, 
all this was confirmed by the strongest power in 
Asia to himself and his heirs for ever. It was one 



of those wonderful strokes of fortune which must 
have lent such zest and interest to life in those 
otherwise sordid days. 

It was due to the advent of the British upon 
the scene. On the death of the strong, stern ruler, 
Ranjit Singh, the Punjab had fallen into a state 
of hopeless anarchy. His successor died pre- 
maturely of excess, and Ranjit's reputed son, Sher 
Singh, once Governor of Kashmir, had marched 
upon Lahore and seized the government in 1841. 
The Punjab was now entirely in the hands of the 
Sikh soldiery, whose movements were regulated 
not by the will of the sovereign or of the minister, 
but by the dictation of army committees. The 
minister, Dhyan Singh (Gulab Singh's younger 
brother) shot the ruler Sher Singh, and was in turn 
murdered by a Sikh chieftain, Ajit Singh, who, 
again, was murdered by the Sikh soldiers. Dhulip 
Singh, so well known afterwards as an exile in 
England, and then a child of five years of age, was 
put on the throne, and from this time the army 
became the absolute master of the State, though 
Hira Singh, Dhyan Singh's son, and therefore 
nephew of Gulab Singh, was nominally minister. 
He tried to curb the army by distributing the 
regiments, but the army committees would not 




allow a single corps to leave the capital without 
their permission. He had eventually to flee, but 
he was overtaken and killed, and his head brought 
back in triumph to Lahore. 

On Hira Singh's death the power fell into the 
hands of the brother of the infant Dhulip Singh's 
mother and her paramour, Lai Singh, a Brahmin. 
They increased the pay of the soldiers, and in order 
to keep them quiet turned them against Gulab 
Singh at Jammu. He was brought to Lahore and 
had to pay a crore (ten millions) of rupees. They 
were then turned against Multan. Another son 
of Ranjit Singh raised a revolt, but was suppressed 
and murdered by the regnant maternal uncle of 
the infant Dhulip Singh. Then this uncle was 
himself murdered. The mother, with the aid of 
the minister Lai Singh, and of Tej Singh, the 
commander-in-chief of the army, assumed the 
government and, as it is thought, with the object 
of employing the army, which was a positive 
danger to the throne, ordered an advance upon 
British territory. In November 1845 the Sikh 
army of 60,000 men with 150 guns crossed the 
river Sutlej which was then our frontier, and by 
the 16th of December was encamped by Ferozepore 
fort held by only 10,000 British and British Indian 


troops. A bloody and indecisive battle was fought 
at Mudki, December 18, 1845. Another most 
hard-won battle — "the most severe and critical 
the British army had ever fought in India " — and 
in which the Governor-General, Lord Hardinge, 
himself took part, and lost five aides-de-camp 
killed, and four wounded, was fought at Ferozeshah 
on December 21. This just stemmed the tide of 
invasion, but at such a cost of men and ammuni- 
tion, that the British could not follow up their 
success till January 28, 1846, when the decisive 
battle of Aliwal was fought, which utterly dis- 
heartened the Government at Lahore. Lai Singh, 
the minister, was deposed for his incapacity, and 
Gulab Singh was invited from Jammu to negotiate 
with the Govern or- General. 

Here was the wonderful turn in the wheel of 
fortune, which, when his own brother and so many 
of the leading men of the Punjab had been 
murdered or debased, brought him alone and his 
descendants after him to a position of security. 

Gulab Singh immediately made overtures to the 
British Government, but the Sikh army was not 
yet thoroughly defeated, and it was not till after 
the battle of Sobraon, on February 10th, that the 





way for negotiations was really clear. The British 
troops occupied Lahore. The Sikh Government 
submitted, and the treaty of Lahore was concluded 
on March 9th. By this, amongst other things, the 
Sikhs ceded to the British all the hill country 
between the rivers Beas and Indus, including the 
provinces of Kashmir and Hazara " ; and " in 
consideration of the services rendered by Raja 
Golab Singh, of Jummu, to the Lahore State, 
towards procuring the restoration of the relations 
of amity between the Lahore and British Govern- 
ments," the British agreed to recognise "the 
independent sovereignty of Raja Golab Singh in 
such territories and districts in the hills as may be 
made over to the said Raja Golab Singh, by 
separate agreement between himself and the British 
Government, with the dependencies thereof, which 
may have been in the Raja s possession since the 
time of the late Maharaja Khurruk Singh " ; further, 
the British Government, "in consideration of the 
good conduct of Raja Golab Singh," agreed "to 
recognise his independence in such territories, and 
to admit him to the privileges of a separate treaty 
with the British Government." 

A week later, on 16th INIarch 1846, was signed 
this separate treaty with Gulab Singh, by which the 




British Government "transferred and made over, 
for ever, in independent possession, to Maharaja 
Golab Singh and the heirs male of his body, all 
the hilly and mountainous country, with its de- 
pendencies, situated to the eastward of the river 
Indus and westward of the river Ravi, including 
Chamba and excluding Lahoul, being part of the 
territories ceded to the British Government by the 
Lahore State." In consideration of this transfer 
Golab Singh was to pay the British Government 
75 lakhs of rupees, and in token of the supremacy 
of the British Government, was " to present annually 
to the British Government one horse, twelve 
perfect shawl-goats of approved breed (six male and 
six female), and three pairs of Kashmir shawls." 
He further engaged "to join with the whole of 
his military force the British troops when em- 
ployed within the hills, or in the territories ad- 
joining his possessions " ; and on their part the 
British Government engaged to "give its aid to 
Maharaja Golab Singh in protecting his territories 
from external enemies." 

Thus it was that Kashmir came under its 
present rulers ; and surprise has often been ex- 
pressed that when this lovely land had actually 


been ceded us, after a hard and strenuous cam- 
paign, we should ever have parted with it for the 
paltry sum of three-quarters of a million sterling. 
The reasons are to be found in a letter from Sir 
Henry Hardinge to the Queen, published in The 
Letters of Queen Victoria, The Governor-General, 
writing from the neighbourhood of Lahore on 18th 
of February 1846 — that is nearly three weeks 
before the treatv of Lahore was actuallv sicrned — 
says it appeared to him desirable "to weaken the 
Sikh State, which has proved itself too strong — and 
to show to all Asia that although the British 
Government has not deemed it expedient to 
annex this immense country of the Punjab, 
making the Indus the British boundary, it has 
punished the treachery and violence of the Sikh 
nation, and exhibited its powers in a manner which 
cannot be misunderstood." " For the same political 
and military reason," Sir Henry Hardinge continues, 
**the Governor-General hopes to be able before 
the negotiations are closed to make arrangements 
by w^hich Cashmere may be added to the possessions 
of Golab Singh, declaring the Rajput Hill States 
with Cashmere independent of the Sikhs of the 
Plains." "There are difficulties in the way of 
this arrangement," he adds, " but considering the 



military power which the Sikh nation had ex- 
hibited of bringing into the field 80,000 men and 
300 pieces of field artillery, it appears to the 
Governor-General most politic to diminish the 
means of this warlike people to repeat a similar 

This was the reason we did not annex Kashmir. 
We had not yet annexed the Punjab. We did not 
finally conquer it till three years later, when the 
continued unruliness of the Sikhs and the murder 
of British officers had rendered a second campaign 
necessary. In 1846 the East India Company had 
no thoughts or inclinations whatever to extend 
their possessions. All they wished was to curb 
their powerful and aggressive neighbours, and they 
thought they would best do this, and at the same 
time reward a man who had shown his favourable 
disposition towards them, by depriving the Sikhs 
of the hilly country, and by handing it over to a 
ruler of a different race. 

So Gulab Singh became nominal ruler of 
Kashmir. But he did not acquire actual possession 
of his new province without difficulty. The 
governor appointed under the Sikh Government 
showed no disposition to hand over the province, 



and with the aid of feudatories attacked Gulab 
Singh's troops. Gulab Singh had to apply to the 
British Government to aid him, and British troops 
were accordingly sent to Jammu to enable Gulab 
Singh to send his Jammu troops to Kashmir, and 
two British officers, one of whom was the famous 
Sir Henry Lawrence, accompanied Gulab Singh to 
Srinagar. Owing to his character for oppression 
and avarice he was not a popular ruler, and the 
people did not welcome him. But with the 
support of the British Government he was finally 
able to establish his rule over Kashmir by the 
end of 1846, and Sir Henry Lawrence returned to 

The state of Kashmir when Gulab Singh took 
it over was deplorable. The Government took 
from two -thirds to three-quarters of the gross 
produce of the land — about three times as much 
as is now taken. The crops when cut by the 
cultivators were collected in stacks. One-half was 
taken as the regular Government share, and addi- 
tional amounts were taken as perquisites of various 
kinds, leaving one-third or even only a quarter with 
the cultivators. Of this some was taken in kind 
and some in cash. The whole system of assessment 
and collection was exceedingly complicated and 


workable only in the interests of the corrupt 
officials ; and Government held a monopoly in 
the sale of grain. Gulab Singh during his lifetime 
did very little to ameliorate this state of things. 
He took things as he found them and troubled 
little to improve them. He died in 1857, and was 
succeeded by his son Ranbir Singh, who rendered 
valuable services to Government during the 
Mutiny, and received, in recognition, the right to 
adopt from collateral branches an heir to the 
succession on the failure of heirs-male of Gulab 
Singh on whom alone the country had been con- 
ferred by the British. Maharaja Ranbir Singh 
died in 1885. 

During his reign there was a steady improve- 
ment, but it was very slow, and an account of 
the condition of Kashmir then reads curiously 
ill beside the account of the province now after 
nearly a quarter of a century of the present 
Maharaja's reign. The Maharaja Ranbir Singh 
himself was extremely popular both with his 
people and with Europeans — in this respect being 
a marked contrast to his father. He was manly, 
fond of sport, affectionate in his family, and simple 
and moral in his private life. And Mr. Drew 
has given a pleasant picture of how this chief. 

akbar's bridge, karallayar 


in the old-fashioned way so liked by the people 
and so conducive of good relations between rulers 
and subjects, used to sit daily in public Durbar 
in full view of his people, receiving and answer- 
ing his people's petitions. 

With the vastly more complicated system of 
administration of the present day it is practically 
impossible for a ruler of Kashmir to conduct his 
business on precisely these lines ; but I have seen 
the same system working in Chitral, and quite 
realise the advantages it has for small states. If 
it does nothing else it teaches the people good 
manners, for they learn from observation of others 
how to comport themselves in high society. But 
these public Durbars are also an education of no 
small value. Here the people discuss men and 
events. They learn character and hear outside 
news, and it is surprising to see how much more 
native intelligence, dignity, and character men 
brought up in these conditions have than the 
school-bred men of to-day. 

Ranbir Singh was then a typical ruler of a 
type that is now almost gone. Unfortunately 
he had not the officials capable of the immense 
labour required to remove the terrible effects of 



many centuries of misgovernment, and especially 
of the harsh, cruel rules of the Afghans and Sikhs. 
His officials were accustomed to the old style 
of rule and knew no better. In the early 'sixties 
cultivation was decreasing ; the people were 
wretchedly poor, and in any other country their 
state would have been almost one of starvation 
and famine ; justice was such that those who could 
pay could at any time get out of jail, while the 
poor lived and died there almost without hope. 
There were few men of respectable, and none of 
wealthy appearance ; and there were almost 
prohibitive duties levied on all merchandise im- 
ported or exported. By the early 'seventies some 
slight improvement had taken place. The labour- 
ing classes as a general rule were well fed and well 
clothed, and fairly housed. Both men and women 
were accustomed to do hard and continuous labour, 
and it was obvious that they could not do this and 
look well unless they were well nourished. Their 
standard of living was not high, but they certainly 
had enough to eat. And this is not surprising, 
for a rupee would buy 80 to 100 lbs. of rice, or 
12 lbs. of meat, or 60 lbs. of milk. Fruit was so 
plentiful that mulberries, apples, and apricots near 
the villages were left to rot on the ground. And 



fish near the rivers could be bought for almost 
nothmg. Crime of all kinds was rare, chiefly 
because of the remembrance of the terrible punish- 
ments of Gulab Singh's time, and because of the 
system of fixing responsibility for undetected 
crime upon local officials. Drunkenness, too, was 
almost unknown. About half a lakh of rupees 
was spent upon education, and another half-lakh 
on repairing the "paths." A slight attempt was 
also made to assess the amount of land revenue 
at a fixed amount. This much was to the good, 
but yet the country was still very far indeed from 
what it ought to have been. The means of 
communication were rough and rude in the 
extreme, so that men instead of animals had to be 
used as beasts of burden. Even the new assess- 
ment of the land revenue was three times as 
heavy as that of the amount demanded in British 
districts in the Punjab. And there was still much 
waste land which the people were unwilling to put 
under cultivation, because under the existing 
system of land revenue administration they could 
not be sure that they would ever receive the 
results of their labour. A cultivator would only 
produce as much as would, after payment of his 
revenue, provide for the actual wants of himself 



and his family, because he knew by experience 
that any surplus would be absorbed by rapacious 
underling officials. In matters of trade there 
were, too, still the impediments of former days. 
Upon every branch of commerce there was a 
multiplicity and weight of exactions. No product 
was too insignificant, and no person too poor to 
contribute to the State. The manufacture or 
production of silk, saffron, paper, tobacco, wine, 
and salt were all State monopolies. The sale of 
grain was a State monopoly, and though the State 
sold grain at an extraordinarily cheap rate, the 
officials in charge did not always sell it to the 
people who most required it, or in the quantity 
they required. Favourite and influential persons 
would get as much as they wanted, but often 
to the public the stores would be closed for 
weeks together, and at other times the grain was 
sold to each family at a rate which was supposed 
to be proportionate to the number of persons in the 
family ; but the judges of the said quantity were not 
the persons most concerned, viz. the purchasers, but 
the local authorities. Private grain trade could 
not be openly conducted, and when the stocks in 
the country fell short of requirements they could 
not be replenished by private enterprise. 



On the manufacture of shawls parallel restric- 
tions were placed. The wool was taxed as it 
entered Kashmir ; the manufacturer was taxed 
for every workman he employed, and at various 
stages of the process according to the value of 
the fabric ; and, lastly, the merchant was taxed, 
before he could export the goods, the enormous 
duty of 85 per cent ad valorem. Butchers, bakers, 
carpenters, boatmen, and even prostitutes were 
still taxed, and coolies who were engaged to carry 
loads for travellers had to give up half their 

The whole country, in fact, was still in the grip 
of a grinding officialdom ; and the officials were the 
remnants of a bygone, ignorant, and destructive 
age, when dynasties and institutions and life itself 
were in daily danger, when nothing was fixed and 
lasting, when all was liable to change and at the 
risk of chance, and each man had to make what he 
could while he could ; and when, in consequence, 
a man of honesty and public spirit had no more 
chance of surviving than a baby would have in a 

No wonder that in 1877, when — through excess 
of rain which destroyed the crops — famine came 


on the land, neither were the people prepared to 
meet the emergency, nor were the officials capable 
of mitigating its effects, and direful calamity was 
the consequence. 

In the autumn of 1877 unusual rain fell, and 
owing to the system of collecting the revenue in 
kind and dilatoriness in collection, the crop was 
allowed to remain in the open on the ground, and 
then it rotted till half of it was lost. The wheat 
and barley harvest of the summer of 1878 was 
exceedingly poor. The fruit had also suffered 
from long continual wet and cold, and the 
autumn grains, such as maize and millet, were 
partly destroyed by intense heat and partly 
devoured by the starving peasants. The following 
year was also unfavourable, and it was not till 1880 
that normal conditions returned. 

These were the causes of the scarcity of food- 
supply ; and when this calamity, which nowadays 
could be confidently met, fell upon the country, it 
was found that people had nothing in reserve to 
fall back on ; that the administrative machine was 
incapable of meeting the excessive strain ; that 
even the will to meet it was wanting ; and that 
corruption and obstruction impeded all measures 
of relief, and even forbade the starving inhabitants 



migrating to parts where food could be had. In 
addition, the communications were so bad that the 
food, so plentiful in the neighbouring province, 
could be imported only with the greatest difficulty. 

As a result two-thirds of the population died ; a 
number of the chief valleys were entirely deserted ; 
whole villages lay in ruins, as beams, doors, etc., had 
been extracted for sale ; some suburbs of Srinagar 
were tenantless, and the city itself was half- 
destroyed ; trade came almost to a standstill, and 
consequently employment was difficult to obtain. 

The test of this great calamity showed bare the 
glaring defects of the system the present dynasty 
had taken over from their uncultured predecessors, 
and which in their thirty years' possession of the 
valley they had not been able to eradicate. 

During the five years which remained of the 
late Maharaja's reign the first important steps were 
taken to remedy this terrible state of affairs ; the 
assessment of the land revenue was revised, and the 
cart-road into the valley was commenced. But 
it has been during the twenty-three years of 
the present Maharaja's reign that the most real 
progress has been made. First and foremost the 
land revenue has been properly assessed ; it has 
been fixed in cash for a definite number of years. 


and the share claimed by the State has been greatly 
reduced. Then a first-rate cart-road up the Jhelum 
valley has been made. The heavy taxes on trade 
have been reduced. A well-trained set of officials 
have been introduced, and they have been well 
paid. Increased, though not yet nearly sufficient 
attention has been paid to education. Surveys for 
a railroad have been made, and a great scheme for 
draining the valley, reclaiming waste land, and 
preventing floods has been commenced. As a 
result, and in spite of the State taking a smaller 
share of the cultivator s produce, the revenue has 
more than doubled. More land is being taken 
up. The population is steadily increasing. The 
darkest days are over, and the future is assured. 

The history of the people has shown that there 
is latent in them much ability and taste, but that 
they have always prospered most when most 
subjected to the influences of the great world out- 
side Kashmir. Those influences are now strong 
upon the country, and the future prosperity of 
the people will very largely depend upon how 
they meet and profit by them. 

Needless to add, a weighty responsibility lies 
also upon the British Government that it should 
guide their destinies aright. 



A MORE detailed account of the administration 
may now be given. Kashmir Proper, that is, what 
is known as the valley of Kashmir, is a province 
of the Jammu and Kashmir State, which has a total 
area of about 80,000 square miles, and a population 
of 2,905,578, while the province, which includes 
for administrative purposes the valley of the 
Jhelum River from Baramula to Kohala, as well as 
the district of Gurais on the far side of the North 
Kashmir Range, has a population of 1,157,394. 

Kashmir itself is administered by a Governor, 
and the whole State is ruled over by a Maharaja. 
It is one of what are known as the Native States 
of India, — States which are ruled by their own 
Chiefs, but feudatory to the British Government, 
whose interests are represented by a British 
Resident at the capital. 




The present ruler, who succeeded his father 
in 1885, is Maharaja Sir Pratap Singh, G.C.S.I., 
a major-general in the British Army, and a Chief 
of strong religious tendencies, who is much respected 
in India and loved by his own people. He is 
advised by a chief minister, his very capable and 
business-like brother, Raja Sir Amar Singh, K.C.S.I., 
and by three subordinate ministers — one in charge 
of the foreign relations of the State, of the Public 
Works, the Forests, and several minor departments ; 
another in charge of the Land Revenue administra- 
tion ; and the third in charge of the Home 
Department, including the Police, the Customs, 
JNledical and other branches. The Judiciary is 
presided over by a Judge of the High Court. 

All of these officials are natives of India, and, 
except one, belong to the British service, and have 
been trained in British provinces. None are 
Kashmiris. They have been lent by the British 
Government to the Maharaja for a specified 
number of years, and draw salaries of from 
Rs. 1200 to Rs. 1500 a month, or £720 to £800 
a year. 

Under them, again, are the governors of Kashmir 
and of Jammu ; and the wazir-i-wizarats of Ladak 
(including Baltistan) and Gilgit, of whom all 



except the latter are also Indian officials lent by 
the Government of India. 

Besides these, in the departments of the State 
where special technical knowledge is required, 
European and American specialists are employed 
under the ministers. The finances of the State 
are controlled by an Accountant-General from the 
British service. The operations for assessing the 
land revenue are under a Settlement Com- 
missioner, a member of the Indian Civil Service. 
The public works are under the charge of a 
retired engineer from the Public Works Depart- 
ment of the Government of India. The forests 
are controlled by a Conservator of Forests from 
the Indian Forest Department. And under the 
State Engineer is the Chief Engineer of the 
Electrical Department, a Royal Engineer Officer, 
who in his turn has under him a large staff of 
Englishmen, Americans, Canadians, engaged in 
carrying out the great schemes for converting 
water power into electric power, and by means of 
the latter draining the water-logged portions of 
the valley, reclaiming land, and preventing floods. 

This, in brief outlines, is the administrative 
system in the State. At the head is an hereditary 
ruler. Immediately responsible to him are a group 




of Indian officials mostly bom, educated, and trained 
in the adjoining British province of the Punjab. 
The local executive is likewise chiefly presided 
over by Government of India native officials ; 
and in charge of technical departments are 
European and American specialists. 

What is chiefly remarkable is the very small 
number of Kashmiris who are employed. Though 
the majority of the inhabitants are Mohamedans, 
very few Mohamedans are employed in high 
positions. Though the Kashmiris are very in- 
telligent, extremely few have posts in the State 
service ; and this anomaly, though remarkable, is 
paralleled in many other native States. They are 
most of them dependent on officials trained or at 
least educated in British provinces. The Maharaja 
of Kashmir realises, however, the necessity of 
educating and training his own subjects, and most 
of the smaller officials and many of the clerks in 
the offices are State subjects. 

And these are the men with whom visitors to 
Kashmir come mostly in contact. Immediately 
under the Governor of Kashmir are officials known 
as tehsildars, in charge of telisils or small districts, 
and under them again are naib-tehsildars in charge 
of groups of villages ; and, finally, we come to the 



lumberdars, or head-men of the villages. These 
officials with their attendants collect revenue, keep 
order, and admhiister justice in small cases. But 
for the administration of justice there is also in the 
Kashmir provinces a Chief Judge holding his court 
at Srinagar, and minor judges known as munsifFs. 

The chief revenue is derived from the land, and 
is assessed according to a system which will 
presently be described. Out of a total revenue for 
the whole State of one hundred lakhs of rupees, the 
revenue from land amounts to over forty lakhs. 

Customs is another principal source of revenue. 
The receipts for the Kashmir province for the last 
three years were — 

Rs. 3,99,155 = ^-26,610 
Rs. 4,84,235 = ^32,282 
Rs. 5,51,102 = ^36,740 

and for the whole Kashmir State — 

Rs. 7,62,582 = ^50,839 
Rs. 8,93,438 = ^59,562 
Rs. 10,09,647 = ^67,243 

In describing the history of the people we have 
seen that one of the greatest reforms effected in the 
reign of the present Maharaja has been in the 
system of assessing and collecting the land revenue 
— a reform which was carried into effect mainly by 



Sir Walter Lawrence, who in his work on Kashmir 
has described at length both the old system and 
the one which has given it place. Of every village, 
with its village lands, a map was made on a scale 
generally of 24 inches to the mile — that is large 
enough to show every field accurately, and even the 
trees on the fields. Then in the village registers 
all necessary facts relating to each field were 
recorded, such, for instance, as the area, the class 
of soil, the source of irrigation, the number and 
description of trees on it, the name of the owner, 
the name of the person who cultivated it, and the 
amount of rent payable by the tenant, if any. 

Of these entries the most important, as regards 
assessing the amount of land revenue to be paid, 
was that regarding the class of soil. This is now 
classified as A, irrigated land, (1) producing rice 
regularly ; (2) producing rice occasionally, but not 
in every year ; (3) producing other crops than rice ; 
and B, unirrigated land, (1) manured ; (2) level 
un manured ; (3) sloping unmanured. 

The name of the owner" was entered, but 
owner " is really an incorrect term, for all land in 
the Kashmir valley is " owned " by the State. The 
actual holders have a right of occupancy as against 
the State as long as they pay its dues, and are 



practically sub-proprietors ; but they have no right 
of alienation or mortgage. 

At each harvest an official called a patwari, 
made a field to field inspection, and recorded in a 
Register the crops found in the fields. These pro- 
ceedings gave the assessing officer a record of crops 
which formed an aid to assessment. The officer 
then estimated by observation, inquiry, and experi- 
mental cuttings, the yield of average fields of each 
class. The following are examples of some of the 
rates of yield : — 

Per Acre. 

a. Unhusked rice — lt)s. lbs. 

1. In villages affected by floods . . 1240 to 1520 

2. In villages above the floods but not 

too near the mountains 




3. In villages close to the mountains 

and affected by cold winds and 

cold water ..... 




h. Maize on unirrigated land — 

1. By river ..... 




2. Between river and mountains . 




3. Near mountains .... 




c. Wheat on unirrigated land — 

1. By river . . . . , 




2. Between river and mountains . 




3. Near mountains .... 




All this information furnished the basis on which 
the amount of revenue could be fixed. In old days 



the State claimed half the gross produce as it was 
stacked on the field at harvest time, and various 
perquisites of officials reduced the share left to the 
cultivator to only about one-third. Moreover, in 
collecting the revenue in kind there was much 
room for abuse and loss to both the State and 
the cultivator, and endless vexation. It was there- 
fore the object of the new settlement to have 
the revenue paid as much as possible in cash rather 
than in kind, so that the occupant of a field would 
be able to know for certain what he would have to 
pay, and would not have cormorant officials hanging 
over his field at harvest time ; and also so that the 
State on its side might know precisely what amount 
of revenue to expect in a year, and not have the 
trouble of collecting in kind with all its attendant 
risks and cost. What had to be fixed, then, was 
the money value of the grain which the State would 
otherwise have taken from the cultivator. 

'I'he settlement of this amount in the case of 
every single field in the whole of Kashmir was, 
necessarily, a gigantic operation and took six years 
to carry out. But the information collected regard- 
ing its area and bearing capacity showed, with 
considerable degree of accuracy, what each field 
could produce. The average cash value of this 


amount of produce in an ordinary year was then 
determined, and the State had then to say what 
proportion — whether two-thirds as before, or an half 
or a third — they would take. Lastly, had to be 
decided for how many years they would agree with 
the occupier to take this fixed amount of cash — 
whether for ever, as in Lord Cornwallis' settlement 
of Bengal, or for thirty, twenty, or ten years. 

Mr. Lawrence, though making very great 
changes, had naturally to also use caution. He 
could not at once fix the whole revenue in cash. 
Some had still to be taken in kind. And he could not 
safely make his settlement for more than ten years, 
for his calculations of the produce of a field and of 
the money value of that produce might at this first 
settlement often be unfair, either to the State or 
the occupier. 

At first even the villagers, who were most to be 
benefited, distrusted the settlement and hampered 
the operations, and the old style petty official, now 
happily extinct, encouraged them in their distrust. 
But gradually, under Mr. Lawrence's influence, 
the attitude of the villagers changed. When they 
saw that for ten years to come the amount the State 
was to take was to be fixed and at a diminished 
rate, that only a small part was to be taken in 



kind, and enough was to be left to them for 
food, and that thereby the ever-present sepoy 
was to be removed from the villages, the people 
began to realise that some good was to come of 
these operations for settling the revenue. Ruined 
houses and desolate gardens were restored, ab- 
sentees returned, and applications for waste land 
came in faster than was for the time convenient. 

At the end of the ten years a second settlement 
was made, and this time with much diminished 
troubling, for not only were people and officials 
better disposed, but there were now available much 
more reliable statistics as to the produce of the 
fields. The yield of each field and the money value 
of the yield could now be fairly accurately known ; 
and the proportion of this money value of the 
yield which the State should take had now to 
be fixed. Formerly, exclusive of perquisites for 
local officials, the State would take half the yield. 
But it was now decided to take only 30 per cent of 
the gross yield, and to take the money value of it 
instead of the actual produce in kind as in old days. 
Each occupier was then given a small book 
containing a copy of the entries in which he was 
interested, the area of the field, the rate he had to 
pay, and so on. 



The all-round incidence of the new land revenue 
proper is Rs. 3. As 2. (or 4s. 2d) per acre cultivated ; 
and the rates varied from Rs. 12 (16s.) per acre 
on some of the less irrigated (market garden) 
land, to ten annas (tenpence) per acre on the 
poorest unirrigated land in the coldest part of 
the province. 

The period of the settlement was fixed at 
fifteen years. 




What Kashmir is principally known for to the 
outside world is its shawls ; but the wool from 
which they are manufactured is not produced in 
Kashmir itself : it comes from Tibet and Chinese 
Turkestan. It is the soft down lying under the 
long hair of the Tibetan goat. Kashmir does, how- 
ever, produce a coarser wool of its own. Kashmir 
villagers keep immense numbers of sheep, for round 
their villages and on the mountain uplands there 
is an abundance of rich grass, the leaves of the 
willow trees and of irises furnish winter fodder, and 
these animals are not only thus easily fed, but also 
furnish their owner with clothing, with food and 
with manure, and by crowding in the lower portion 
of his house keep him warm in winter. They are 
shorn twice in the year, once in early summer and 
again in the autumn. The wool is of good quahty, 




and in the winter months the women spin it, and 
the men weave it into blankets and into the well- 
known "puttoo" cloth, in which sportsmen in 
Kashmir clothe themselves, and for which, since 
the Swadeshi movement, there has been a great 
demand in India. 

Silk is another and increasingly important pro- 
duct. The whole of the valley is covered with 
mulberry trees, and for many centuries sericulture 
has been practised in the country. But it is only 
recently that it has been placed on a really business- 
like footing. Now good "seed," i.e, silk- worms* 
eggs, are imported fresh every year from France and 
Italy — about six-sevenths from France and one- 
seventh from Italy — and in the spring are given out 
to the cultivators free of charge. The villagers 
hatch out the eggs, feed the silk-worms on the 
mulberry leaves, and then bring the cocoons to the 
State silk factory at Srinagar for sale. 1720 lbs. of 
eggs were given out last year, and 1,712,000 lbs. of 
cocoons were bought in by the State. In the 
present year the figures were 1762 lbs. of eggs and 
2,273,760 lbs. of cocoons. The amount paid for 
these cocoons to 17,433 rearers was Rs. 4,25,848, 
so that the Kashmiri villagers at very little trouble 
and no cost are able to put a nice little sum of 


money into their pockets every summer, and are 
consequently now clamouring to be given seed. 
The mulberry trees are carefully watched by the 
State, and an inspector of mulberry trees goes 
round the valley, seeing that the trees are not 
damaged and are properly pruned. Young mul- 
berry trees are distributed by the State to the 
villagers to the number of from 30,000 to 40,000 
a year. 

Fruit is another of Kashmir's important pro- 
ducts which may be expected to largely increase 
in the future. Kashmir apples are renowned all 
over India. They are large, red, and attractive 
looking, and sell well as far down as Calcutta and 
Bombay. But they are not of really good flavour, 
and the apples from European stock now being 
grown are sure to have a large sale in the future. 
In the autumn months thousands of cart-loads are 
carried down the roads to the railway at Rawal 
Pindi. The apple grows wild in Kashmir, and the 
villagers uproot the wild trees and plant them in 
their orchards. But the State also now supplies 
them with young trees. Near Srinagar there are 
larcre State nurseries stocked with the best kinds 
from Europe, and every year thousands of young 
trees are given out free to the villagers, so that the 



valley may gradually be filled with the best avail- 
able trees. The State also to a small extent grows 
apples for sale, and their trees are extraordinarily 
prolific. In the autumn one sees these apple trees 
weighed down to the ground with fruit, and M. 
Peychaud, the director in charge, says that he has 
taken as many as 30,000 from one tree. The apples 
also grow to an enormous size. And when the rail- 
way comes to Kashmir, and carriage is easier and 
cheaper, the export of apples and other fruit should 
increase to striking dimensions, and not only be one 
of the best means of making the railway pay, but 
bring great profits to the cultivators. The apple 
of Kashmir has a great future before him. 

So has the pear. He is not so much to the 
fore at present, because he does not stand carriage 
as well ; but the railway will remove that draw- 
back, and he will run the apple hard. Like the 
apple, the pear also is found wild and transplanted 
into orchards. But good stock is now being 
grown in the State orchard and distributed from 
there. Some of these, and some that have been 
imported by European residents, have taken so 
kindly to Kashmir, that I believe their present 
products are not surpassed anywhere. From 
Major Wigram's garden comes a famous pear, 


so large, and soft, and luscious, as scarcely to 
support its own weight. Other winter pears keep 
right through to the early summer. 

Quinces also are grown in considerable 
quantities. They make excellent jam, but are 
chiefly grown for their seed, which is exported 
to the Punjab. 

Grapes have been tried, and on the shores 
of the Dal Lake there is a vineyard under the 
charge of a Frenchman, from which what is known 
as Kashmir wine is made. But this branch of 
fruit culture has not so far been so successful as 
the culture of pears and apples. It is said that 
the rain falls at the wrong time. But probably 
the most suitable descriptions of grapes have not 
yet been tried or the most suitable site yet selected. 
In the time of the Moghals they were plentiful, 
and wild vines are often seen. So it is hard to 
believe that grapes cannot be grown in Kashmir 
as well as the other fruits for which it is famous. 

Walnut trees are found all over the valley, 
and quantities of the nuts are now exported, 
though formerly they were only used for oil. 
They are an excellent fruit, and one kind known 
as the kagazi has such a thin shell that it is easily 
cracked between the fingers, and the kernel is 




excellent. The villages on the lower slopes are 
often surrounded with walnut trees, some of 
enormous size, and adding greatly to the beauty 
of the village. 

Mulberries, as has been remarked in regard 
to sericulture, are plentifully grown. They are 
eaten in immense quantities by the people as well 
as by their animals. 

Almonds are grown in considerable quantities 
in large orchards. Apricots are grown, but not 
very plentifully, and principally for oil. Peaches, 
cherries, pomegranates, and plums are also culti- 
vated, but have not yet received much attention 
from the villagers. Strawberries grow abundantly 
in the gardens of Europeans, and gooseberries 
and currants also succeed. There is, indeed, 
scarcely a limit to what the fruit production of 
Kashmir might be if it received attention and 

Of the food grains rice is the principal. With 
all the streams running down from the mountains 
ample water for the copious irrigation it requires 
is available. The Kashmiris are exceptionally 
clever in its cultivation, and they grow it up to 
an altitude of 7000 feet. The fields are terraced 


carefully to hold the irrigation, and are incessantly 
watered and anxiously weeded. Lawrence says 
that in one district alone he has found fifty- three 
varieties, and certain villages are famous for their 
peculiar rices. But they may be roughly divided 
into two classes, the white and the red, of which 
the former is the more esteemed by epicures, 
though the cultivators prefer the latter as it is 
less delicate, suffers less from changes of climate, 
and gives a larger out-turn. Lawrence gives the 
average crop of unhusked rice per acre as 17 
maunds, or 1220 lbs. Large quantities of rice 
are exported to the Punjab. 

JMaize is the next most important crop. In 
the black peaty land lying along the Jhelum, and 
in the high villages where numbers of cattle graze 
and manure is plentiful, very fine crops are grown. 
As a rule it is grown on dry land, and is seldom 
irrigated. The stalk forms excellent fodder for 
cattle. The average yield in irrigated and dry 
swamp land is 11 maunds, or 880 lbs., and on dry 
land 8 maunds, or 640 lbs. per acre. As a diet 
maize ranks after rice, but the villagers, when money 
is scarce, will sell their rice and subsist on maize. 

Barley is largely grown, but it is not of good 
quality, and no pains are taken in its cultivation. 



Wheat receives better treatment, but the 
wheat flour of Kashmir is not esteemed. The 
average production on dry land is 7 maunds, or 
560 lbs. per acre. 

Millet is another food grain grown in Kashmir, 
but not very generally. 

Buckwheat is cultivated in the higher villages. 

Pulses are not much grown. Mung {Phaseolus 
Mungd) is the best, and is often sown in rice lands 
which require a rest. Others are radh {Phaseolus 
radiatus) and motlii {Phaseolus aconitifolius). Peas 
and white beans are occasionally cultivated ; in 
the gardens of European residents they give 
excellent results. 

Oil-seeds are largely grown, and now that a 
company for oil-pressing is being started, still 
more attention is likely to be paid to them. The 
Kashmiris do not use ghi (clarified butter) in their 
food. They consequently require vegetable oils 
for that purpose, and as mineral oils are too ex- 
pensive, they use them also for lighting. The 
principal oil-seed grown is the rape, of which there 
are three varieties. An average crop is 3 maunds, 
or 240 lbs. per acre. Large quantities of linseed 
are also produced, of which an average crop would 
be to 2 maunds, 120 to 160 lbs. per acre. Til 



(Sesamuvi indicum) is a very common crop. It 
yields maunds, or 120 lbs. per acre. Til is also 
extracted from the walnut and apricot. Rape 
seed gives the best oil for lighting purposes, and 
linseed for eating. 

Cotton is grown to a small extent all over the 
valley, and both the fibre is used for home-manu- 
factured cotton cloth, and the seed is used as 
food for cattle. 

Tobacco is cultivated in many parts. And 
two very beautiful crops are amaranth and saffron. 
The former is grown in many places along the 
edges of the fields, and gives a purply crimson 
touch to the landscape. Its minute grains are 
first parched, and then ground and eaten with 
milk or water. It is especially used by the Hindu 
on festival days. The latter is grown on the 
plateau above Pampur, and when in blossom 
forms one of the sights of Kashmir. The plant 
is like a crocus, and the flower mauve and purple. 
A large space of the plateau is covered with it, 
and this sheet of colour adds a strikingly beautiful 
effect to an already beautiful landscape. The 
saffron of Kashmir is famous for its bouquet, and 
is used as a condiment and as a pigment for 
the forehead marks of the Hindus. The flowers 




are dried in the sun, and the pollen is extracted 
by hand. It is this pollen and the pollen-bearing 
portion of the flower which form the saffron. 

JNIustard is also grown — mostly for oil ; and 
round the town, especially round Srinagar, in the 
vicinity of the Dal Lake, vegetables are cultivated 
in market gardens. The cultivation of potatoes, 
indeed, is now increasing so rapidly that many 
scores of cart-loads are annually exported to the 

Hops are grown by the State at Dabgarh near 
Sopur, and their cultivation could doubtless be 
extended, but so far the cultivators, who are very 
conservative, have not taken to it. 

Such are the chief vegetable products of Kash- 
mir, and the State is making endeavours to improve 
existing staples and introduce anything new which 
may prove productive in the country. For this 
purpose the Maharaja has established a model 
farm, known as the Pratab IVIodel Farm, and 
situated near the Shalimar garden to experiment 
with different varieties of grain and different 
methods of cultivation, and it is hoped that if 
new varieties prove specially productive they will 
be taken up by the cultivators. The farm was 


opened by Lord Minto in the autumn of 1906. 
Long rows of accurately measured plots of 
ground, one-sixteenth of an acre each, are planted 
with the different varieties, and their yield care- 
fully measured. As one passes up the line he 
sees at a glance the relative qualities of each 
variety of wheat or maize or rice, and if the farm 
is carefully worked for a series of years it ought to 
give some valuable results. Already the culti- 
vators have been attracted by the enormous size of 
some maize from Canada grown on the farm. 
Some very straight Russian flax recommended 
by the Dundee Chamber of Commerce seems to 
promise good results. And perhaps beetroot for 
sugar may also have a success, for almost any 
vegetable product that grows in a temperate 
climate will grow in Kashmir. 

The crops reaped in the spring in Kashmu- are 
wheat, barley, rape, flax, pea, and bean. Those 
reaped in the autumn are rice, maize, cotton, 
saffi'on, millet, tobacco, hop, amaranth, buckwheat, 
pulse, sesame. 

The alluvial soil of the valley is of great fertility, 
and every year is renewed by rich silt from the 
mountain streams. The soil of the higher parts is 


not so rich, though it, too, will give good returns. 
Irrigation is largely used for water is abundant, as 
the snow on the mountains forms a natural reservoir 
stored up for the hot weather, when it melts and runs 
down to the valley at the time when it is most 
wanted. The Kashmiri is very clever at making 
his little water channels and leading the water on 
to his field. 

The agricultural implements used are simple 
and primitive. The plough is light, for the cattle 
which are yoked to it are small. It is made of 
wood, and the ploughshare is tipped with iron. 
The spade likewise is made of wood, has a long 
handle and a narrow face, and is tipped with iron. 
A hand hoe is also used for weeding. 

Ploughing for rice, maize, and other autumn 
crops commences in the middle of March. In April 
and May these crops are sown. In June and July 
wheat and barley, sown in the previous autumn, 
are harvested. In July and August linseed is 
harvested. In August and September cotton- 
picking commences. In September and October 
rice, maize, and other autumn crops are harvested. 
In November and December ploughing for wheat 
and barley takes place. And during the winter rice 
and maize and other autumn crops are threshed. 



Besides agricultural products the yield of tlie 
forests of Kashmir is also of great value. All 
the northward-facing slopes are covered with dense 
forests, a considerable part of which is of the 
valuable deodar. This is cut into sleepers, launched 
into the streams which find their way into the 
Jhelum, and so allowed to float down the river to 
the plains of the Punjab. Here the sleepers are 
caught where the river is slow and shallow, and 
sold at considerable profit to the State. The 
deodar is a very handsome tree, and is a variety of 
the cedar of Lebanon. It will be noticed by visitors 
to the valley along the road between Uri and 
Baramula, especially near Rampur. Less beautiful 
and less valuable as timber is the Blue pine {Pinus 
exceha). It grows to a greater height than the 
deodar, which does not flourish above GOOO feet, 
and it may be seen at Gulmarg. The Himalayan 
spruce {Picea morinda) is very common, and also 
grows round Gulmarg, but its timber is of little 
value. Birches grow high up above the pines and 
next the snows ; their timber is of no use, but the 
bark is much employed for roofing. In the forests 
are also found silver fir, horse-chestnut, and maple. 


All these forests are owned by the State, and 
are now under the charge of a Forest Department, 
with a conservator from the Government service at 
its head. The boundaries of forests are being laid 
down, and the State is determining under what 
conditions neighbouring villagers and others may 
be granted the customary concessions for felling 
timber, grazing, and gathering grass and fuel. It 
is usual for the State to let fuel and fodder be 
gathered free, and to charge for grazing and for 
cutting timber for building and agricultural pur- 
poses. But the areas in which these operations 
can be permitted, and the rates to be charged, 
have to be fixed, and the operations regulated. 
The trees are counted, marked for felling according 
to their age, and in regular succession, so as to 
allow of young trees growing up to fill their place. 
And in many other ways the forests are watched 
so as to prevent their denudation, and all the 
damage that would be caused through the rainfall 
rushing off at once instead of being held up by the 
trees. By the proper regulation of the forests 
the State raises a handsome income ; it secures the 
soil being retained on the hill-sides ; and it has 
the water held up in springs as a reservoir ; while 
the authorities in the Punjab know that the rain 


which falls in Kashmir will be held up by the 
forests till the cold weather, when it is wanted 
for the canals which are taken off from the 
Jhelum and Chenab rivers flowing out of Kashmir 

Of the trees which grow in the level portions 
of the valley the chenar is by far the most striking. 
As it grows in Kashmir it is a king among trees, 
and in its autumn foliage is one of the many 
attractions which go to make Kashmir one of the 
supremely beautiful spots in the world. Its official 
botanical name is the Platanus orientaUs, and it is 
one of the varieties of the plane tree. The chief 
characteristic is the massiveness of its foliage — its 
umbrageousness. It grows to a considerable height; 
it has long outstanding branches and great girth — 
one which Mr. Lawrence measured was 63 feet 
round the base. And as the leaves are broad and 
flat, the whole mass of foliage is immense, and so 
thick that both sun and rain are practically ex- 
cluded from any one sitting in its shade. Under 
the chenar trees in the Residency garden one can 
sit through a summer day without a hat, and 
through a summer shower without getting wet. 
All this mass of foliage turned purple, claret, red, 
and yellow in the autumn tinting, backed against 



a clear blue sky and overhanging the glittering, 
placid waters of the Dal Lake or the Jhelum River, 
forms a picture which can be seen in no other 
country than Kashmir. 

The elm tree of Kashmir, though not so striking 
as the chenar, is still a very graceful object. One 
in the Lolab valley has been measured as 43 feet 
in girth, and in the Residency garden are some fine 

The walnut is more common, and round the 
villages many handsome trees are often seen. 

The poplar is now very common, and is planted 
alongside the road to what is now a quite dis- 
tressing extent, for though these trees give shade 
they also cut out the view. The timber is used a 
good deal for building, though it is of poor quality. 

The willow is a more really useful tree, and is 
much planted in moist places. Its leaves are used 
for fodder. Its shoots are to some extent, though 
not sufficiently, used for basket- making. 

INIiNERAL Products 

The mineral products of the Kashmir valley are 
small. In other districts of the Kashmir State 
there are indications of a moderate amount of 



mineral wealth. In the Jammu province there is 
a considerable quantity of coal of a rather poor 
quality, and there is good iron and bauxite. 
Sapphires also are found there. And in Ladak, 
in the Indus and its tributaries, there are gold- 
washings. But in the Kashmir valley, with which 
we are at present dealing, only a small amount of 
iron has been worked so far, though it is believed 
that large quantities exist near Sopor and about 
Islamabad and Pampur ; and copper has also been 
found near Aishmakam in the Liddar valley. 

Peat is extracted from the low-lying lands on 
the Jhelum River, and can be used as a cheap fuel. 
Several strong sulphur springs are found in the 
valley, and limestone exists in many places, notably 
about Rampur, and on the Manasbal Lake. 

Arts and Manufactures 

Of manufactures the shawl is the best known, 
but the production has sadly fallen off of late 
years. In accordance with the treaty between 
the Kashmir State and the British Government, 
six pairs of shawls of fine quality have to be yearly 
paid to the latter, and but for this the industry 
would almost disappear. Kashmir shawls in the 




middle of the last century used to be very fashion- 
able in Europe, but the Franco-Prussian War seems 
to have sealed the fate of the industry. After 
1870 the fashion went out and has never revived ; 
and the famine of 1877-79 carried off numbers of 
the weavers, so that now very few carry on the 
industry. According to M. Dauvergne, who was 
for many years connected with the shawl and 
carpet industry in Kashmir, the Kashmir shawl 
dates back to the times of the Emperor Baber. 
The first shawls which reached Europe were 
brought by Napoleon at the time of his campaign 
in Egypt as a present to the Empress Josephine. 

The best shawls are made from the very fine 
wool, known as pashm, underlying the long hair 
of the Tibetan goat, which is woven into a delicate 
material called pashmina on which the shawl 
patterns are worked. Some of this pashm, and 
some of the best, is also imported from Chinese 
Turkestan from the neighbourhood of Ush Turfan. 
It so happens that I have been in this particular 
region, and I well remember the rolling grassy 
downs among the Tian Shan mountains on which 
the nomad Kirghiz kept immense flocks of sheep 
and goats. It was an ideal country for the growth 
of wool, and I believe much of this beautiful wool 


of which the finest shawls were made is now 
allowed to run to waste. 

From 1862 to 1870 the export of shawls averaged 
25 to 28 lakhs of rupees per annum, or over a 
quarter of a million sterling, and when the trade 
was at its zenith 25,000 to 28,000 persons were 
engaged in their manufacture. 

Some of the best of the old shawls are preserved 
in the museum at Srinagar. They show much 
tasteful arrangement of colour and fineness of 
workmanship ; but one does not wonder that they 
have gone out of fashion, and even at their best 
one misses that extreme delicacy of finish denoting- 
strength and character in the worker which one 
sees in Japanese, and more still in Chinese work- 

Carpets have now surpassed shawls in order of 
importance, and two European firms, Messrs. 
Mitchell and Co., and Mr. Hadow, have quite as 
much as they can do to keep pace with the orders 
they receive, of which a very large number come 
from America. Many of the old weavers have 
taken to carpet -making, and the pashm used 
formerly for shawls is now being increasingly used 
for the finer kind of carpets. The dyes are good in 



Kashmir, and as the finest wool is to be had the 
carpet industry ought to have a good future 
before it. 

Silk is another most thriving industry with 
great future possibilities. The State have now 
in Srinagar the largest silk factory in the world, 
employing about 3300 men, and turning out 
191,000 lbs. of silk last year, and in the present 
year 230,939 lbs., most of which is sold as yarn 
in the European market at prices varying from 
14s. lOd. to 18s. 2d. per lb., and bringing in a very 
handsome profit to the State. A small amount of 
silk weaving is also carried on in the same factory, 
and 212 handlooms have been set up, but at 
present the factory is only capable of turning out 
a comparatively light cloth in what is called the 
green state. For throwing, dyeing, and finishing, 
other machinery would be necessary, which the 
State will set up in time as funds become avail- 
able. The rough cloth already made is admittedly 
superior to Japanese cloth of the same weight, and 
has sold in London at somewhat higher prices. 
When it can be turned out dyed and finished it 
should have a great sale in India, though the State 
are not likely to derive the same high profits from 
the woven cloth that they do from selling the yarn. 


Electric power has now been supplied to the 
silk factory from the great electric installation 
on the Jhelum River, and is used for heating the 
water in the basins in which the cocoons are 
immersed for reeling. It will also be used for 
turning some of the reeling machinery, and possibly 
also for electrocuting the grubs in the cocoons. 

Papier-mache is a favourite artistic product of 
Kashmir, and some very handsome candlesticks, 
bowls, and vases, well adapted for English country 
houses, may be purchased. The old designs are 
especially beautiful. But nowadays very little is 
made from real pulp of paper, and most of what is 
sold as papier-machd is made of smooth wood. 

The silver work is poor, as it lacks finish, and 
the modern designs are not especially beautiful. 
But the Kashmiri workmen used to be able to 
produce a peculiar sheen on the silver work which 
gave it a striking and unusual appearance. 

Some handsome copper work is also produced 
in Srinagar, and some pretty enamel work. 

But at present the fashion rather turns to wood- 
carving, which has certainly much improved since 
I first knew it. Very handsome screens, tables, 
panels, boxes, etc., are made, and the Kashmiri 
carpenter is getting to finish his work much better. 


Whether the work is worth the prices asked is, I 
think, doubtful. Better wood-carving can be had 
in Europe for the same price. 

Turning from art industries to more practical 
manufactures the first to notice is basket-work. 
Most villages have their artisan who makes baskets 
for agricultural purposes, for carrying loads and for 
rough village work. Willow trees are plentiful 
and might be much more extensively grown ; and 
Raja Sir Amar Singh has always been keenly 
interested in establishing a really important basket 
industry in Kashmir, and supplying the needs not 
merely of Kashmir villagers, but of India generally. 

Puttoo cloth and blankets are well-known 
manufactures of Kashmir. Since the Simdeshi 
movement has extended in India, and the demand 
for goods made in India has increased, there has 
been a regular run on the rough woollen " puttoo " 
of Kashmir, and the price has gone up. Formerly 
a sportsman could get a good shikar suit for 
eight rupees. Now he has to pay ten or twelve. 
It is excellent wearing material, but is too loosely 
woven and liable to get out of shape. Proposals 
are on foot for establishing woollen factories in 
Kashmir, and with suitable machinery and proper 


supervision, good useful cloth should be made from 
the excellent wool with which the country abounds. 

Cotton cloth is also manufactured in the 
villages, of a rough, homely description. But 
whether this manufacture will ever increase to a 
great extent is doubtful. A French gentleman 
who has lived for many years in Bokhara, and who 
visited Kashmir, told me that he considered that as 
cotton was grown so successfully in Bokhara and 
Russian Turkestan, it ought to grow equally well 
in Kashmir. This may be so, and the State 
is making experiments in cotton growing to find 
a variety suitable to the country. But so far the 
future of cotton manufacture cannot be considered 
so assured as that of silk and wool. 

Finally, among the industries of Kashmir must 
be mentioned boat-building, which is indeed one of 
the most important in the country. The Kashmiri 
is an intelligent and clever carpenter, though in 
accordance with his character he lacks accuracy 
and finish. His boats are of all sizes, from the 
great grain barges, carrying cargoes of thirty tons, 
to State " parindas " or fliers propelled by forty 
or fifty rowers, and to light skiffs for a couple of 
paddlers. House-boats of quite elaborate design 
are also made. And if properly supervised and 



instructed, the Kashmiri should be capable of con- 
structing any kind of craft. 

There is little iron-work in Kashmir, for iron is 
not plentiful. But the Kashmiri has such natural 
skill that he can turn out quite good guns and 
rifles, and will make all the ordinary surgical 
instruments required in the hospital. 


Of these products and manufactures considerable 
quantities are exported to India, and will help to 
make the proposed railway pay, while this railway 
on its part will help to increase the exports, for 
much that cannot be taken out of the country, now 
that everything has to be carried 196 miles by 
road, would be exported if railway carriage were 
available. Apples and pears to the extent of 90,000 
maunds, or 3210 tons, are exported annually, 
besides from 10,000 to 20,000 maunds of other fruit. 
Rice and maize exports vary greatly according to 
the demand in the Punjab. The present year was 
one of scarcity in the adjoining British province, 
and, consequently, the export of grain was quite 
unusual — amounting to 100,000 maunds, or more 
than three thousand tons ; but ordinarily it does not 



exceed more than about a thousand tons. The ex- 
port of ghi or clarified butter amounts to 720 tons. 
Potatoes are an increasingly important export, and 
the demand for them is certain to rise. Last year 
750 tons were exported. Hides and skins to the 
amount of some 350 tons are annually exported. 
Linseed was in special demand last year owing to 
the failure of crops in the Punjab, and in con- 
sequence 1740 tons, to the value of Rs. 2,61,000, 
were exported ; but the usual amount is only about 
one-fifth of this. Silk to the value of Rs. 18,44,205 
was exported last year, and this may be taken as 
the normal amount. And wool and woollen goods, 
to the value of about two lakhs of rupees, are also 
exported, besides a few miscellaneous articles, and 
some 4000 live animals, mostly sheep and goats. 
In addition, from ten to twelve lakhs of rupees 
worth of timber are floated down the river. 

Altogether the exports from the Kashmir valley, 
including timber, during the last two years have 
amounted to — 

8,83,141 maunds = 31,540 tons 
9,77,305 maunds = 34,957 tons 

and their value has been — 

Rs. 55,18,508 - i^367,900 
Rs. 49,64,800 = ^'330,986 



Of this amount, deducting the timber which 
was floated down the river, there was exported 
by road — 

1,78,355 maunds = 6,370 tons 
3,28,027 maunds = 11,715 tons 

Cotton piece-goods are the chief imports into 
Kashmir. Twenty-five to thirty thousand maunds 
of piece-goods (895 to 1070 tons) are imported 
annually, to the value of fifteen to nineteen lakhs 
of rupees (£100,000 to £126,000). Some are the 
coarse, but rough and well-wearing products of the 
Punjab peasants, but most are the products of 
Manchester, and are worn by the Srinagar and 
other townspeople. 

Salt is the next most important import, and now 
that the Government of India has decreased the 
duty on it, the quantity imported into Kashmir 
is likely to steadily increase. In the last three 
years the amounts imported have been 112,710, 
119,803, and 201,451 maunds respectively (4025, 
4280, 7194 tons), with a value of Rs. 2,81,680, 
Rs. 4,83,698, and Rs. 5,01,485, or £18,778, £32,246, 
and £33,432. It is sadly needed by the poorer 
classes, both for themselves and for their animals, 
and as yet not half enough for their real re- 
quirements comes into the country. What is 


imported comes from the salt districts of the 

Tea is now being largely imported, which shows 
that the people are acquiring a larger purchasing 
power. One and a quarter million pounds of tea, 
with a value of seven and a half lakhs of rupees, 
or £50,000, are now imported annually. 

Sugar is being imported in increasing quantities, 
the amounts for the last three years being 57,931, 
62,907, and 75,817 maunds respectively, or 2070, 
2246, 2709 tons, with a value of Rs. 4,58,183, 
Rs. 4,24,495, and Rs. 4,95,895, or £30,545, £28,305, 
£33,059. The Kashmiris are very fond of sugar, 
and as their condition improves the demand for 
sugar and the amount of imports is sure to 

Metals are another import of increasing value 
and importance. 20,000 maunds are annually 
imported, with a value of three lakhs of rupees, or 
£20,000. At present the Kashmiris use earthen- 
ware cooking pots, but when in time they take 
to metal the import of copper must increase. 

Other imports of minor importance are wear- 
ing a]:)parel, twist and yarns (of a value of nearly 
three lakhs, or £20,000), drugs and medicines (half 
a lakh of rupees), turmeric, gunny bags, leather. 



liquors, petroleum, provisions, seeds (half a lakh), 
manufactured silk, spices (three-quarters of a lakh), 
stationery, tobacco (three lakhs), and raw wool. 

The total weight of imports during the last 
three years respectively has been — 

3,35,889 maunds 
3,99,89^ maunds 
4,53,202 maunds 

11,996 tons 
14,281 tons 
16,185 tons 

and their value has been — 

Rs. 53,88,315 
Rs. 57,99,785 
Rs. 66,08,422 




In such a country as Kashmir, with a great river 
flowing through it, and with numerous mountain 
torrents and subsidiary streams running into that 
river, there is obviously an immense amount of 
water-power at hand. The difficulty is to make 
it available for practical purposes. But this 
difficulty is now being overcome by converting 
the water-power into electric power, which can 
then be transmitted to considerable distances and 
applied in a variety of ways. The idea of thus 
converting this vast amount of water-power in 
Kashmir into electric power had of recent years, 
since the development of electrical appliances, 
naturally occurred to many ; but it did not take 
definite shape till the Maharaja engaged the 
services of Major Alain de Lotbini^re, R.E., to 
carry out a scheme of harnessing the waters of 




the Jhelum River which that officer had formulated, 
and which has just been completed. 

Major de Lotbiniere, a Canadian by birth, and 
endowed with a full measure of the energy, 
resource and hopefulness of his countrymen, had 
already executed a very successful scheme by 
which the water-power in the Cauvery Falls in 
Madras had been converted into electric energy, 
and transmitted to a distance of a hundred miles, 
to supply the Kolar gold-fields in Mysore with 
motive power, at a cost 50 per cent lower than 
that which they were paying for steam-power. 
He had also inspected many electrical projects on 
the Continent and in Canada and America. He 
therefore came to the work in Kashmir in 
September 1904 fully primed with the knowledge 
of all the latest developments of electrical science, 
and at once conceived the idea of harnessing, not 
any of the minor rivers of Kashmir, but the river 
Jhelum itself, and selected a spot a few miles 
above Rampur where he might entrap some of 
the water, lead it along the mountain-side at 
practically a uniform level, till he could drop it 
through pipes on to turbines — very much in the 
same manner as a mill-stream is led along and 
then dropped on to a water-wheel — and so by 



setting in motion various machines generate 
electrical energy. 

The theory of the electric installation is then 
very simple. The valley falls rapidly. At the part 
selected it falls about 400 feet in 6^ miles. Some of 
the water is taken out and kept at about the same 
level so that at the end of the miles it has a fall 
of 401 feet. Consequently when it is dropped those 
400 feet it falls with immense force and velocity. 
By most ingenious machinery this force is turned 
into electrical energy, and then transmitted by wires 
to wherever wanted — it is hoped even to the plains 
of the Punjab, to Rawal Pindi at least. 

Meanwhile the water, after fulfilling its mission, 
returns into the river, and might, if need be, be 
taken out again, led along the mountain-side, and 
a few miles lower down dropped once more on to 
another electrical installation, and generate still 
more electrical energy. The same lot of water 
might, in fact, go on performing the same duty 
time after time till the plains of India were 
reached. Then when it got on to the level, and 
there was no further fall, it would be impossible 
to utilise it for generating electrical energy. But 
it would promptly be seized for another equally 
important purpose. For it would be caught in 


the great new canal which is being constructed at 
the point where the Jhelum River emerges from 
its mountain barriers and enters the plain; and 
from that point it would be led over some hundreds 
of miles to irrigate rich, but as yet uncultivated 
lands, only needing the touch of life-giving water 
to burst forth into luxuriant vegetation and attract 
great populations to them. 

The latent capacity for good of these waters of 
the Jhelum, now tossing heedlessly about as they 
rush along beside the road into Kashmir, is then 
for practical purposes almost unlimited. Even 
the present installation only takes out a small 
proportion, and that portion is utilised only once. 
In the driest season the Jhelum River runs with a 
volume of about 5000 cubic feet per second — what 
are known for short as "cusecs." But of this 
amount only 500 cusecs are taken, and these 500 
cusecs are utilised only once, and not several times, 
as they might well be in their fall between the 
valley of Kashmir and the plains of India. 

With these 500 cusecs electrical energy to the 
extent of 20,000 horse-power will be generated ; 
but Major de Lotbini^re thinks that it would be 
possible to economically develop an aggregate of at 
least 250,000 horse-power of electrical energy from 



the Jhelum River. It is not possible to take out 
water and conduct it along the mountain-side at 
any point. It is indeed a matter of some difficulty 
to choose a site where safe head works can be con- 
structed to entrap the water of the river, where 
the water can be taken along the hill-side, and 
where a forebay or tank can be built from which 
to lead off the pipes to the generating station 
below. In many parts the river runs between pre- 
cipitous banks so that it is impossible to get it out. 
In others, even when it had been got out, the hill- 
sides would be found so loose and unsafe it would 
be impracticable to take a water-course along 
them. Still, in spite of the many difficulties in the 
way of making practical use of the water-power in 
the Jhelum River, Major de Lotbini^re still thinks 
that, as above mentioned, electrical energy to the 
extent of a quarter of a million horse-power could 
be economically developed. 

Water for the present project has been taken 
out a couple of miles above Rampur at a most 
charming spot, where the river comes foaming down 
over innumerable boulders, and the banks are 
overshadowed by the same graceful deodar trees 
which clothe the mountain - sides. Here very 
strong and solid masonry head works and regulating 


sluices have been built under the lee of some friendly 
boulders ; and elaborate precautions have been 
taken to protect these headworks from the impact 
of the thousands of logs which are annually floated 
down the river by the Forest Department to be 
caught and sold in the plains below. 

From these headworks what is called a flume 
has been constructed in which the water will run 
along the mountain-side to the forebay or tank 
immediately above the generating station. This 
flume, answering to the channel which conducts 
the water to a flour-mill, is to the eye absolutely 
level, but it has in reality the very small drop of 
1*05 feet in 1000 feet — ^just sufficient to make the 
water run easily along it. Its length is about 
6 1 miles ; and the main difficulty in the whole 
project was found in constructing it. A road or 
even a railway when it comes to an obstacle can 
very likely, by a change in the gradient, rise over 
it or under it. But this flume had to go straight 
at any obstacle in its way, for it obviously could 
not rise, and if it were lowered it could not rise 
again, and so much horse-power would have been 
lost at the far end. The flume, in fact, once it was 
started off* had to take things as it found them and 
make the best of them. The first obstacle was a 



great spur of boulder conglomerate. This had to 
be cut down into to a depth of forty feet. An 
arched masonry passage had then to be made, and 
the whole covered over again. Five torrents were 
negotiated by passing them clean over the flume. 
Over six other torrents the flume — here made of 
wood — had to be carried on strong iron bridges. 
And six tunnels were made through projecting 
rocky spurs. Only one-third of the 6^ miles' 
length of flume could be built of masonry, and 
the remainder had necessarily to be built of timber. 
This portion had an internal section of feet 
by 8|- feet, and was constructed of tongued and 
grooved, machine-planed, deodar planking 2f inches 
thick, supported on cross frames 3j feet apart. 

The chief danger to guard against in con- 
structing this flume for carrying the water to the 
generating station was the risk of the hill-sides 
either bodily slipping downward, as they are very 
apt to do in heavy rain, or falling in heavy masses 
on to the wooden flume and breaking through it, 
and thus completely breaking off* the source of 
power, and bringing all machinery to a standstill. 
These risks cannot be entirely counteracted. In 
heavy rain a portion of the wooden flume may be 
carried away or broken. An alternative supply 


of water on occasions of exceptional rain has 
therefore been tapped close up to the generating 
station, where a strong dam has been thrown across 
the bed of a mountain torrent, and its waters 
impounded to lead through a tunnel in a rocky 
spur almost immediately on to the forebay. In 
ordinary weather there is little water in this torrent, 
but in heavy rain, when the flume is most likely 
to be damaged, it has ample water. 

And although there is this alternative supply, 
great precautions have, nevertheless, been taken 
to ensure the flume against damage, and where 
slips are to be expected immensely solid timber 
shoots have been erected over it for rocks or snow 
and mud floods to shoot over. 

On emerging from the flume the water enters 
the brick-lined tank or reservoir called the forebay, 
where it settles for a moment before descending 
the great iron pipe which conducts it on to the 
machinery in the power-house below. In this 
forebay there are, of course, sluice gates to regulate 
the flow, and shut it ofl* altogether at one or all 
the pipes. And there is also a spill channel for 
the water to flow away to waste when it is not 

Then four hundred feet below we come to the 



power-house, with all the most modern electrical 
plant transported from America, and much of it 
from the farthest western coast of America, across 
the Atlantic and the Indian Oceans, right across 
India, and then for 150 miles by road over a range 
6000 feet high. The water-power made available 
by the flume is capable of generating 20,000 horse- 
power ; but as that amount of power is not at 
present required, electrical machinery to develop 
not more than 5000 h.-p. has as yet been put 
in, though space and all arrangements have been 
provided in the power-house for machinery to 
develop 15,000 h.-p. more whenever that is required. 
The machinery is by the General Electric Co. of 
New York, and the generators supplied are of the 
three-phase 25-cycle type. The water-wheels upon 
which the water from the forebay, led down the 
pipes and contracted through a nozzle, impinges 
with such tremendous velocity that a hatchet could 
not cut the spout, are made of specially toughened 
steel, and are so cunningly designed that the 
utmost effect is obtained from the fall of the 
water, and that immediately the water has done its 
work it is allowed to pass away at once through 
a waste channel back again into the river without 
further impeding the machinery. These wheels 



were supplied by Abner Doble of San Francisco. 
They are sent revolving with immense rapidity — 
five hundred revolutions per minute, or eight 
every second — and they cause to revolve the 
electrical generators which are placed on the same 
axis, and thereby electric energy is generated. By 
a series of very ingenious machines this electric 
energy is regulated and conducted to the trans- 
mission wires which are at present carried through 
Baramula to Srinagar, and which will transmit 
the power at the extremely high voltage of 60,000 
volts from the generating station to the spot where 
the power is required. 

The carrying out of such an undertaking in a 
remote mountainous country, where no railway has 
yet penetrated and where no great industrial enter- 
prises have yet been established, required no small 
amount of organising capacity, driving power, and 
foresight. In the spring the melting snow com- 
bined with rain, and in the summer the heavy rain 
brings down the mountain-sides, impedes construc- 
tion progress, often filling up what has already been 
done, and sometimes, alas ! burying workmen with 
it. In winter, snow and frost stopped all work. 
Labour difficulties were another source of trouble. 
Enough was not available on the spot, and many 



hundreds were engaged from distant Baltistan and 
Ladak, and even Afghanistan. Skilled labour had 
to be imported from the Punjab. With contractors 
other difficulties arose. They would not work 
without an advance of money, and when they got 
an advance many would decamp. Again cholera 
created still other difficulties, and drove labour away 
when it had with much persuasion been collected. 

All these are no mean difficulties. They have, 
however, now been overcome, and this autumn 
the Maharaja, in the presence of many guests, 
opened the installation and transmitted the power 
to Baramula and Srinagar. 

The 5000 horse-power at present available will 
be utilised for carrying out Mr. Field's and Major de 
Lotbiniere's great scheme for dredging the bed of 
the Jhelum River and neighbouring marshes, and 
thus preventing floods, and for reclaiming some 
60,000 acres of cultivable land. It will also be 
used for heating the water basins in the silk factory 
and turning the reeling machinery, as well as for 
lighting Srinagar. 

When the railway which has so long been con- 
templated is at last constructed, more electric 
power will be needed. And if the Durbar in any 
way encourage outside enterprise, there will be 



demand for electric power for oil - crushing, for 
saw-mills, for wool factories, match factories, and 
many other purposes. In any European country 
or American State the whole amount of electric 
power would have been already sold. Similar 
rapidity of progress cannot be expected in Kashmir. 
But still we may hope that now every one can see 
that the electric power is there, and that it is an 
eminently useful product, the demand will gradually 
arise, and the financial success of the project be 
worthy of the skill and enterprise displayed by the 




Not, indeed, from the valley itself, but from the 
mountains which bound it, can be seen the second 
highest mountain in the world, and a number of 
peaks of 25,000 feet and over. Kashmir is cradled 
amidst the very loftiest mountains, and only Nepal 
can claim still higher peaks. 

By a fortunate coincidence the Government of 
India have this year published a remarkably interest- 
ing scientific treatise on the high peaks and 
principal mountain ranges of Asia, by Colonel 
Burrard, R.E., F.R.S., the officiating Surveyor- 
General of India, and H. H. Hayden, Super- 
intendent in the Geological Survey of India. Both 
these officers have unique qualifications for the task. 
Colonel Burrard has for years made a special study 
of the Himalayas, and Mr. Hayden has for a great 
part of his service been engaged in investigating 




the geology of various districts of the Himalayas, 
and he accompanied me to Tibet. 

The highest peak in the world is Mount Everest, 
which is taken to be 29,002 feet above sea-level, 
and is situated at the back of Nepal. The second 
highest is the peak situated on the boundary 
between the Kashmir State and Turkestan, and on 
the main watershed dividing the rivers of India 
from the rivers of Central Asia. It is 28,250 feet 
above the sea, and is visible from Haramokh on the 
northern range of Kashmir. 

It may be wondered why so high a peak has no 
name. The reason is that, though high, it is not 
visible from any inhabited place. It is hidden 
away in a remote mountain region behind other 
peaks of almost as great magnitude, which being- 
nearer overshadow it — as Mount Everest itself is 
overshadowed from Darjiling by the Kinchinjunga 
range. There is no village within six days' travel 
of K^ on either side, and, consequently, until it was 
fixed by observation of the Survey, it was unknown. 
Colonel Montgomerie, when making the survey of 
Kashmir, discovered Kl It was among a series of 
peaks on what is known as the Karakoram range, 
and each of these he designated by the capital 
letter K, after Karakoram, and by a number, 


K\ K^ etc. So it came about that what 
proved to be the second highest mountain in the 
world became known, not by any name, but by 
merely a letter and a number. 

In 1887, on my way from Peking to India, I 
passed close under on its northern side, and in 
a paper read before the Royal Geographical Society 
in the following year made some reference to 
it. At the conclusion of my lecture, the late 
General Walker and Sir Henry Rawlinson proposed 
the name of Godwin Austin, after the survey officer 
who made the topographical survey of the southern 
portion of the Karakoram range. This name was 
adopted by the Geographical Society, and now 
appears on many maps. But it has never been 
accepted by the Government of India, and 
Colonel Burrard in his above-mentioned treatise 
now writes : — " Of all the designations suggested 
for the supreme peak of the Karakoram that of K2 
has now the widest vogue, and it will be in the 
interests of uniformity if this symbol be adopted 
in future to the exclusion of all others. The 
permanent adoption of the symbol will serve to 
record the interesting facts that a mountain exceed- 
ing 28,000 feet in height had not been deemed 
worthy of a name by the people living under its 


shades, and that its pre-eminent altitude was 
unsuspected until it was brought to light by 
trigonometrical observation." 

With these observations I entirely agree. 

was, as I have said, discovered by Colonel 
Montgomerie in 1858. He took the first observa- 
tion to it from Haramokh, the conspicuous peak 
on the north side of the valley of Kashmir, at a 
distance of 137 miles. I saw it first from the north 
from the Aghil range which I discovered in 1887, 
and I subsequently passed close under it both 
then and in 1889, and never shall I forget the 
impression it left on me as I rounded a spur, and 
looking up a valley saw, quite unexpectedly, this 
real mountain monarch towering almost immedi- 
ately above me, very abrupt and upstanding, and 
with immense masses of ice accumulated at its base. 
I have also seen Mount Everest from the north, and 
it is remarkable that both these peaks, which are so 
inconspicuous from the southern side, should stand 
out so boldly from the north. is not so massive 
a mountain as Kinchinjunga and Nanga Parbat. 
It is rather the bold culminating peak of a range. 

The height of is put down as 28,250 feet 
above the sea. How can we be certain that this is 
right ? The reply is that we cannot. The observa- 


tions have been made from immense distances, and 
are consequently liable to certain errors which have 
been discussed by Colonel Burrard. 

It was observed from the following stations : — 


Height above Sea. 










And apart from the errors due to distance there 
are others which must always be counted on. As 
he remarks, no telescope is absolutely perfect ; no 
level is entirely trustworthy ; no instrumental 
graduations are strictly exact ; and no observer is 
infallible. Then, again, the peaks themselves do 
not always have clearly defined summits, though 
K" happens in this respect to be a model for 
observation, and as it has been observed on several 
occasions from different stations, the errors in the 
mean value of height due to faults of observation 
are, probably, in Colonel Burrard's opinion, less 
than ten feet. Another source of error is the 



adoption of possibly erroneous altitudes for the 
stations of observation. The altitude of was 
observed from Haramokh and other stations, but 
the altitude of Haramokh itself may be a few 
feet wrong, and the altitude of on this account 
may be thirty feet in error. Another element of 
uncertainty in determining the height of a peak is 
caused by the variation in the amount of snow on 
its summit. There is clearly more snow on the 
summit of a peak in winter than in summer, and in 
a hot, dry summer there may be less than in a 
generally cloudy, snowy summer. A more compli- 
cated description of error is introduced by the 
deviation of gravity from the normal in great moun- 
tain ranges. The attraction of the great mass of 
the Himalaya mountains and of Tibet pulls all 
liquids towards itself as the moon attracts the ocean. 
The liquid in levels on the theodolites with which 
observations of the peaks are made is similarly 
affected : the plates to the theodolites in con- 
sequence cannot be exactly adjusted, and when 
apparently truly levelled are in reality tilted 
upwards towards the mountains. At Kurseong, 
near Darjiling, they would be as much as 51" out 
of true level and at Mussouri about 37", 

But the most serious source of uncertainty in 


the measurement of the altitude of a peak is the 
refraction of the atmosphere. A ray of light from 
a peak to an observer's eye does not travel along 
a straight line, but assumes a curved path concave 
to the earth. The ray enters the observer's eye — 
1 quote from Colonel Burrard — in a direction 
tangential to the curve at that point, and this is 
the direction in which the observer sees the peak. 
It makes the peak appear too high. This refraction 
is greatest in the morning and evening, and least 
in the middle of the day ; it is different in summer 
from what it is in winter. One of the great 
Himalayan peaks visible from the plains of India 
would appear, from observations with a theodolite 
made to it from the plains, to fall 500 feet between 
sunrise and the afternoon, and to rise again 300 
feet before sunset ; and even in the afternoon, 
when it would appear lowest, it would still be too 
high by perhaps 700 feet. This is obviously a 
very fruitful source of error, and the difficulty of 
determining the error is increased by the fact that 
the curvature of the ray varies with the rarefaction 
of the atmosphere. In the higher altitude, when 
the rarefaction of the atmosphere increases, the ray 
assumes a less curved path. All these possible 
sources of error due to the rarefaction of the 






atmosphere have been most carefully studied, but 
even now we must allow 10 to 30 feet as possible 
error due to the rarefaction of the atmosphere. 

Summarising the possible sources of error in 
fixing the height of we may say the error may 
be from — 

Errors of observation . . . . . . 20 ft. 

Adoption of erroneous height for observing station 30 ft. 
Variation of snow-level from the mean . . Unknown 

Deviation of gravity Unknown 

Atmospheric refraction . . . , . 10 to 30 ft. 

as I have said, though on the borders of the 
Kashmir State, and visible from the range which 
bounds the Kashmir valley, is not visible from the 
valley itself. But Nanga Parbat can be seen 
from near Baramula and from a few other parts of 
the valley, and is the most striking object in the 
view from Gulmarg and other points of the north- 
ward-facing slope of the Pir Panjal. It ranks 
eighth among the mountains of the world, except 
K^ all the others being in the Nepal Himalayas. 
The order of the mountains is : — 


Mount Everest 29,002 

K2 28,250 

Kinchinjunga 28,146 




Makalu 27,790 

T^^ 26,867 

Dhaulagiri 26,795 

XXX 26,658 

Nanga Parbat 26,620 

Being more accessible than the remote the 
observations for its height were made at much 
closer quarters, the nearest observation point being 
43 miles distant instead of 61 as in the case of Kl 
It was observed in all from eleven different points, 
of which the most remote was 133 miles. But 
until it had been measured by the Survey it had 
been marked on maps as only 19,000 feet. 

Colonel Burrard says it is "the most isolated 
and perhaps the most imposing of all the peaks 
of Asia." It certainly is remarkable for its isola- 
tion. With the exception of subordinate pinnacles 
rising from its own buttresses, no peak within 60 
miles of it attains an altitude of more than 17,000 
feet. Throughout a circle of 120 miles' diameter 
Nanga Parbat surpasses all other summits by more 
than 9000 feet. And its upper 5000 feet are pre- 
cipitous. It stands out therefore in solitary noble- 
ness, and it can be seen on its northern side rising 
23,000 feet from the Indus, there only 3500 above 
the sea. But whether it is of all mountains the 


really most imposing it is not easy to say, and 
personally I almost cling to Kinchinjunga. 
Rakaposhi in Hunza, which is 25,550 feet in 
altitude, and can be seen rising sheer up from the 
Hunza River 5000 feet above sea-level, is also 
wonderfully impressive. There is a peak on the 
Pamirs 25,146 feet high which can be seen rising 
abruptly from the plains of Turkestan, which are 
but a little over 3000 feet ; and there is the Musher- 
brum Peak near which is 25,660 feet — all of 
which I have seen, and which I find it hard to place 
exactly in order of relative impressiveness. But if 
Nanga Parbat cannot be placed in unquestionably 
the first position, it will in most men's estimation 
approximate to it, and must in any case be reckoned 
among the few most striking sights in the world. 

Of what are these great peaks built up ? No 
one has yet ascended their summits, and as Mr. 
Hayden points out, the geologist has to do his 
work at close quarters, and not like the surveyor 
from a distance. So the composition of the highest 
peaks is rarely known in any detail, though the 
general character of the rocks can be ascertained 
with a fair approximation to certainty, from obser- 
vation of material on the flanks, and from a distant 


view of the weathering character and apparent 
structure of the peaks themselves. From such 
observations it has been found that almost all the 
peaks of 25,000 feet or more in height are composed 
of granite, gneiss, and associated crystalline rocks. 
It had long be supposed that some of the granites 
found on the flanks of the great peaks which 
presented a foliated appearance were of sedimentary 
origin, and had therefore been once deposited 
beneath the sea. But their truly intrusive nature 
was recognised by the late Lieutenant-General 
]M*Mahon, who proved conclusively that the great 
central gneissose rock of the Himalayas was in 
reality a granite crushed and foliated by pressure. 
It may certainly be taken that both and Nanga 
Parbat are composed of granite, and have been 
intruded or compressed upward from beneath the 
earth's crust. 

Mr. Hayden further concludes that the ex- 
ceptional height of these great peaks is due to their 
being composed of granite, for either the superior 
power of the granite to resist the atmospheric 
forces tending to their degradation has caused 
them to stand as isolated masses above surrounding 
areas of more easily eroded rocks, or they are areas 
of special elevation. 




Now it is found that the axes of the great 
mountain ranges are also composed of granite, and 
it seems probable that special elevating forces have 
been at work to raise certain parts of their ranges 
above the general level of the whole. And when 
once such elevation has been brought about, the 
disparity between the higher peaks and the inter- 
vening less elevated area would undoubtedly be 
intensified by the destructive forces at work, for 
the mantle of snow and ice, while slowly carrying 
on its work of abrasion, would serve as a protection 
for the peaks against the disintegrating forces of 
the atmosphere, while the lower unprotected areas 
would be more rapidly eroded. 

So argues Mr. Hayden, who further demon- 
strates that when, during the development of the 
Himalayas as a mighty mountain range vast masses 
of granite welled up from below, forcing their 
way through and lifting up the pre-existing rocks 
superimposed upon them, it is probable that, owing 
to dissimilarity of composition and to structural 
weaknesses in certain portions of the earth's crust, 
movement was more intense at some points than 
at others, and that the granite was raised into 
more or less dome -like masses standing above 
the general level of the growing range, and 


subsequently carved by the process of erosion into 
clusters of peaks. 

The great peaks being thus of intrusive origin, 
the question naturally arises whether they are still 
being intruded upward ; whether those great forces 
at work beneath the surface of the earth are still 
impelling them upward; and if so, whether they 
are being forced upward more rapidly than the 
atmospheric forces are wearing down their summits. 
From the geological standpoint Mr. Hayden says 
that it is not at present possible to say whether the 
elevatory movement is still in progress, but he adds 
that many phenomena observable in the Himalayas 
lead us to infer that local elevation has until quite 
recently been operative, and the numerous earth- 
quakes still occurring with such frequency and 
violence forcibly remind us that the Himalayas 
have by no means reached a period of even com- 
parative rest. The surveyor can as yet give us no 
more certain answer. Colonel Burrard says the 
original observations of the great peaks made 
between 1850 and 1860 were not sufficiently pro- 
longed at any one station to enable us to rely with 
certainty on the values of the height then obtained. 
When a slow variation in height has to be deter- 
mined it is better to carry out a long series of 




observations from one station only, rather than to 
take a number of observations from different 
stations, as is necessary and as was done in 
determining the absolute height of peaks. But in 
1905 the Survey of India commenced a series of 
observations from one station, and it is proposed to 
observe the heights of several peaks for some years 
and at different seasons in each year. Then if a 
reliable series of results be once obtained, a similar 
set of observations can be repeated at a subsequent 
date, and any actual change of height that has 
occurred in the interval may be discovered. 

Until these observations are made we cannot 
say for certain whether the great peaks are still 

The Mountain Ranges 

So far we have considered the isolated peaks 
rather than the ranges themselves. It remains to 
study these latter. All of them are popularly 
regarded as forming part of the " Himalayas." 
But Himalaya — pronounced with the stress on the 
second syllable — simply means the "abode of 
snow " ; and geographers have had to define the 
separate ranges into which this great Himalayan 
region is divided. The name of the Great 


Himalaya is consequently reserved for the supreme 
range which extends from the western borders of 
China, carries the great peaks, Mount Everest and 
Kinchinjunga, and runs through Kumaon and 
Kashmir to Nanga Parbat, and possibly farther. 
This is the culminating range of the earth's surface. 
The range to the north, on which stands and 
some satellite peaks of 26,000 feet, is neither so 
long nor has it quite such lofty peaks. It is 
known as the Karakoram range because a pass 
called the Karakoram Pass crosses it. But a pass 
called the JMustagh also crosses it, and Mustagh 
means Ice Mountain, whereas Karakoram means 
black gravel. Mustagh, therefore, appears to me 
a much more appropriate name for this gigantic 
range of ice-clad mountains. It so happens that I 
am the only European who has crossed both passes. 
Each of them is close upon 19,000 feet in altitude, 
but the Karakoram, very curiously, has in summer 
no snow upon it, and the route leads over black 
gravel. It is a better known pass than the former, 
and, consequently, the name of black gravel got the 
start, and now this superb range of mountains is 
doomed for all time to suffer from this absurd 

The range, however, lies far at the back of 




Kashmir, and it is not so much with it as with the 
true Himalaya range that we are here concerned. 
The mountain ranges which encircle the valley of 
Kashmir are the final prolongations of that mighty 
range which runs from the borders of Burma 
thirteen hundred miles away, and bifurcating at 
the Sutlej River, forms with its subsidiary spurs 
the cradle in which the Kashmir valley is set. 

The southern branch of this bifurcation is 
known as the Pir Panjal range, and is that which 
bounds Kashmir on the south. It is the largest 
of all the lesser Himalayan ranges, and even at its 
extremity in Kashmir it carries many peaks exceed- 
ing 15,000 feet ; the Tatakuti Peak, 30 miles 
south-west of Srinagar, 15,524 feet in height, being 
the most conspicuous. 

The northern branch of the bifurcation at the 
Sutlej River of the great Himalayan range culmin- 
ates in the Nun Kun peaks (23,410 feet and 23,250 
feet), which stand conspicuously 3000 feet above 
the general crest of the range, and can be seen on 
clear days from Gulmarg. From near them, not far 
from the Zoji-la, an oblique range branches from the 
great Himalayan range, and constitutes the parting 
between the Jhelum River and the Kishenganga, 
the latter river draining the angle formed by the 



bifurcation. The height of this North Kaslimir 
range, as Colonel Burrard calls it, is greatest near 
the point of bifurcation, one of its peaks, Haramokh 
(1 6,890 feet), reaching above the snow-line, and being 
the most conspicuous object which meets the eye 
of a traveller entering the valley from the south. 
Farther westward the range ramifies and declines. 

The main line of the great range of the 
Himalayas has meanwhile continued from the 
remarkable depression at the Zoji Pass along by 
the Kamri Pass, to the immense mountain buttress 
of Nanga Parbat which, overhanging the deep 
defiles of the Indus, seems to form a fitting end to 
the mighty range which started on the confines of 
China. But there are great mountains beyond the 
Indus also, and whether these form a continuation 
of the great Himalayan axis which the river Indus 
would in that case have merely cut through in 
the gorges below Nanga Parbat, or whether the 
mountains west of the Indus are part of a separate 
range, we shall not know till these latter have been 
geologically examined. 



How these peaks and mountain ranges arose is a 
fascinating and impressive study. It has been 
made by Mr. Hayden, who, in the fourth part 
of the scientific memoir quoted in the previous 
chapter, has compiled their history fi'om his own 
personal investigations and the accounts of his 
fellow -observers in the Geological Survey of India. 
And surely a scientific man could have no more 
inspiring task than the unravelling of the past 
history of the mighty Himalaya. Here we have 
clue after clue traced down, the meaning of each 
extracted, and the broad general outline of the 
mountain's story told in all its grand impressive- 
ness, till one sees the earth pulsating like a living 
being, rising and subsiding, and rising again, now 
sinking inward till the sea flows over the depres- 
sion, then rising into continental areas, anon sub- 



siding again beneath the waters, and finally, under 
titanic lateral pressure and crustal compression, 
corrugating into mighty folds, while vast masses 
of granite well up from below, force their way 
through, lift up the pre-existing rocks and toss 
themselves upward into the final climax of the 
great peaks which distinguish the Himalaya from 
every other range of mountains in the world. 

For millions of years a perpetual struggle has 
been going on between the inherent earth forces 
pressing upward and the opposing forces of denuda- 
tion wearing away the surface. Sometimes the 
internal forces are in commotion, or the contracting 
crust of the earth finds some weak spot and 
crumples upward, and the mountains win. A 
period of internal quiescence follows, and the rain 
and snow, the frost and heat, gain the victory, and 
wear down the proudest mountains — as they have 
worn away the snowy glacier mountains which 
once stood in Rajputana. 

Of all this wonderful past the mountains them- 
selves bear irrefutable evidence. Near Rampur, 
on the road into Kashmir, are bold cliffs of lime- 
stone, a rock which is merely the accumulation of 
the relics of generations of minute marine shell- 




fishes. These cliffs, now upturned to almost the 
perpendicular, must once have lain flat beneath the 
surface of the ocean. High up in the Sind valley, 
embedded in the rocks, are fossil oysters, showing 
that they too must once have lain beneath the sea. 
More telling still at Zewan, a few miles east of 
Srinagar, are fossils of land plants immediately 
below strata of rocks containing fossils of marine 
animals and plants, from which may be concluded 
that the land subsided under the sea, and was 
afterwards thrust up again. Again, an examination 
of the rocks on the Takht-i-Suliman shows that 
they are merely dried lava, and must have had a 
volcanic origin — perhaps beneath the sea. And an 
investigation of the rocks on the flanks of Nanga 
Parbat has shown that they are of granite which 
must have been intruded from the interior of the 

Everywhere there is evidence that even and 
Nanga Parbat lay beneath the sea, and that where 
now are mountains once rolled the ocean ; that 
some once lay in soft, flat layers of mud or sand, 
or plant and shell deposit on the ocean bottom, 
while others, as the ocean bottom was upraised 
above the waters, were obtruded through them ; 
and that everywhere there has been an immense 


pressing and crumpling of the earth's crust — a 
rising and subsiding, a throbbing and pulsation, 
which at one time has brought Kashmir in direct 
contact by land with Madagascar and South 
Africa, and at another has brought it into through 
communication by sea with both America and 
Europe ; and which, finally, has projected it upward 
thousands of feet into the air. The evidence, 
moreover, shows that millions of years have passed 
while these titanic movements have been working 
out their marvellous results. 

Who can but be impressed by such ages and 
such forces ? Who that looks on those lovely 
Kashmir mountains, and on the mighty peaks 
which rise behind, and has learnt their long event- 
ful history, can help being impressed by the im- 
mensity of time their structure betokens, by the 
magnitude of the movements unceasingly at work 
within, and by the dignity with which they yet 
present a front so impassive and so sublime ? 

To realise the full, long-measured roll of their 
majestic evolution we should have to go back to 
the time when the swift revolving sun — itself one 
only among a hundred million other stars of no 
less magnitude — swished off from its circumference 




the wreath of fiery mist now called the Earth ; 
and we should have to trace that mist, cooling 
and consolidating, first to a molten mass with a 
plastic crust enveloped in a dense and watery 
atmosphere, and then to a hardened surface of 
dry land with cavities in which the ocean settled. 
But the story, as it is with more detailed accuracy 
known, commences at the time when a shallow 
sea covered central and northern India, and ex- 
tended over the site of the present Himalaya, 
including Kashmir and the region of the mighty 
peaks behind. This, then, is the first essential fact 
to lay hold of, that at the commencement of the 
authentic history of Kashmir, the whole — vale and 
mountain peak alike — lay unborn beneath the sea. 

How long ago this was it is not possible to say 
within a million years or so. But this much may 
be said with certainty, that the period is to be 
reckoned not in thousands, nor yet in hundreds 
of thousands, but in millions of years. Geologists 
have names for different geological epochs, and do 
not usually speak of them by definite numbers of 
years, for there is still much controversy as to the 
precise length of time occupied by each. But to 
fix in the mind of the general reader a rough idea 
of the immense periods of time with which we are 


dealing in tracing the history of the mountains, it 
is useful to speak in terms of numbers, even 
though they may be only very approximately 
correct. We may then assume that the oldest 
rocks in Kashmir were deposited in sediment at 
the bottom of the afore-mentioned shallow sea a 
hundred million years ago. Some geologists and 
biologists think that a still longer time must have 
elapsed. Some physicists would maintain that 
even so much is not allowable. But as an average 
opinion, we may take a hundred million years ago 
as the commencement of Kashmir history. 

What were the limits of the sea which then 
rolled over the site of Kashmir is not yet precisely 
known. But the lower portion of the Indian 
peninsula was then dry land, and connected by 
land with Africa; and the sea probably extended 
westward to Europe and eastward to China. 
Into it the rivers bore down the debris and detritus 
worked off by the rain from the dry land ; and 
thus were slowly deposited, in the long course 
of many million years, sediments hundreds and 
thousands of feet in thickness which, subsequently 
upheaved and hardened, form the Kashmir moun- 
tains of the present day. 

The first great movement of which authentic 


record has yet been traced took place at the close 
of the Jaunsar period. The bosom of the earth 
heaved restlessly, and what had already been 
deposited in the depths of the sea now emerged 
above the surface. Volcanoes burst through the 
crust, and the sedimentary deposits, hardened into 
rock, were covered with sheets of lava and volcanic 
ash, which now form the hills at the back of 
Srinagar, including the Takht-i-Suliman. 

This was Kashmir's first appearance — not, how- 
ever, in the form of a beautiful valley surrounded by 
forests and snow-capped mountains, but rather in 
the form of an archipelago of bare volcanic islands. 
And even these were not permanent, for a period 
of general subsidence followed and they slowly 
sank beneath the sea which was then probably 
connected with America. 

During the Devonian period Kashmir was still 
submerged ; but in a subsequent portion of the time 
when the Carbonaceous system was being deposited 
there was a second period of great volcanic activity, 
when the southern portion of Kashmir again formed 
an archipelago of volcanic islands. 

Eventually all Kashmir emerged, and became 
part of the mainland of India at that time joined 
with Africa ; so that Kashmir which had before 



been joined by sea with America was now joined 
by land with Africa. Such are the mighty move- 
ments of this seemingly immovable earth. 

But it was only for a brief space that Kashmir 
was visible. Then once again, in mid-Carboniferous 
times, it subsided beneath the sea, there to remain 
for some millions of years till the early Tertiary 
period, four million years ago, when it again 
emerged, and the sea was gradually pushed back 
from Tibet and the adjacent Himalaya, till by the 
end of the Eocene period both Tibet and the whole 
Himalaya had finally become dry land. Kashmir 
was now a portion of the continental area and the 
culminating effort of the earth forces was at hand. 
For yet another period of great volcanic activity 
ensued, connected, perhaps, with the crustal dis- 
turbances to which the origin of the Himalaya is 
attributed. Masses of molten granite were extruded 
from beneath the earth's surface through the sedi- 
mentary deposit. And these granitic masses, 
issuing from the fiery interior of the earth, push- 
ing ever upward, reached and passed the level of 
eternal snow till they finally settled into the line 
of matchless peaks now known as the Himalaya. 

This then, briefly, is a record of the successive 




phases of upheaval and subsidence through which 
Kashmir has passed. Through by far the greater 
portion of the earth's history — through perhaps 
ninety out of the hundred million years — Kashmir 
has lain beneath the sea. And it is only within 
the last four million years that it has finally 

What has actually caused the final upheaval ; 
from whence came the force which raised the 
mountains is not yet entirely known. One well- 
known theory is that the earth s crust in cooling 
has to accommodate itself to a constantly decreas- 
ing diameter, and so gets crinkled and crumpled into 
folds. Anyhow from whatever cause, and quite 
apart from the ordinary up-and-down movements of 
the crust, there has evidently been immense lateral 
pressure, and on the drive into Kashmir many in- 
stances may be observed of the once level strata 
being crumpled into folds as the leaves of a book 
might be on being laterally pressed. There has 
been, says Mr. Middlemiss, " a steadily acting lateral 
pressure of the earth's crust tending to bank it up 
against the central crystalline zone [that is the core 
of intrusive granite of which the line of great peaks 
is formed] by a movement and a resistance in two 


opposite directions." And besides this pressure, the 
effect of tangential stresses tending to compress the 
earth's surface laterally and so form corrugations on 
it, there was from some remote internal cause this 
welling up from below of vast masses of granite 
which forced their way through the pre-existing 
rocks and formed the high peaks, the core of the 
Himalayan ranges. 

These were the approximate causes — though the 
ultimate causes are not known — from which the 
Kashmir mountains originated. And tremendous 
though the forces must have been to cause such 
mighty effects, there is no evidence that they were 
violent. The stupendous result may have been 
imperceptibly attained. If Nanga Parbat rose not 
more than one inch in a month, it would have taken 
only 26,600 years to rise from the sea-level, and this 
is but a moment in the vast epochs with which we 
are dealing. Nature has worked without haste and 
without violence. Slowly, relentlessly, and un- 
interruptedly her work has progressed till the great 
final result stands before us in all its impressive 

Such was the origin and history of the Kashmir 
mountahis. It remains to trace the course of life 




upon them, and picture their appearance in the 
various stages of their history. 

In that remote time, which we have roughly 
taken as a hundred million years ago, when the 
oldest rocks, those for instance at Gulmarg, were 
first laid down in level soft deposit on the ocean 
bottom, there was no life on land or sea. In no 
part of the world have the rocks of this period 
given the slightest trace of any form of life. But 
in the course of time, in some warm climate and in 
some quarter where sea and land meet, and where, 
through the action of the tides, a portion of the 
land is alternately covered and laid open to the 
sunshine — that is, in some spot where earth and air, 
light, heat and water might all have their effect — 
it has been surmised that minute microscopic specks 
of slime must have appeared imbued with just that 
mysterious element which distinguishes life from 
all chemical combinations however complex. 

Of this initial stage, which would not have been 
perceptible to the naked eye, no trace could 
possibly be left, but in the pre- Cambrian rocks in 
Europe there have been detected very minute 
specimens of the simplest known forms of life — 
the Protozoa — and obscure tracks and markings 
indicating the existence of life of some kind. And 


in the next geological period — the Cambrian and 
Silurian, say between thirty and fifty million years 
ago — there is not indeed in the Kashmir rocks yet 
any sign of life, but in the neighbouring district 
of Spiti there has been found in corresponding 
rocks fossils of corals, trilobites, shell-fish, worms, 
brachiopods (lamp-shells), and gastropods. 

When Kashmir made its first brief emergence 
from the waters, in an archipelago of volcanic 
islands, though there was life of low and simple 
kind in the sea, on land there was none, and the 
islands must have been absolutely bare. Neither 
on hill-side nor on plain was there a speck of 
vegetation, not even the humblest moss or 
lichen, and not a sign of animal life. No bird 
or insect floated in the air. And over all there 
must have reigned a silence such as I remember 
in the Gobi Desert, and which was so felt that 
when after many weeks I arrived at an oasis, the 
twittering of the birds and the humming of the 
insects appeared as an incessant roar. 

It does not, however, follow from its bareness 
that the scenery of this archipelago may not have 
been beautiful, for those who have frequently 
passed up the Gulf of Suez know that the early 




morning and evening effects on bare deserts and 
rocky hills are often the most perfect in the 
delicacy and brilliance of their opalescent hues, 
and that the combination of this colouring with the 
bluey-green and the life and sparkle of the sea 
makes up a beauty which wooded mountain- 
sides may often lack. And as from the islands 
the summits of snowy ranges in India and Central 
Asia might be discerned, Kashmir even in its 
primitive and most barren stage must yet have 
had many a charm of its own. 

But the bareness of the islands must have 
shortened the term of their existence, for it meant 
that the hills and plains were easily scoured out by 
the torrential rains which then fell upon them. It 
seems difficult in these days to imagine that when 
tropical rains fall on barren land they will not at 
once bring up a luxuriant crop of vegetation which 
would do much to keep the soil in its position ; 
but in those days there was on land no plant life of 
any description. The hills and plains must, in con- 
sequence, have been deeply scoured, and rushing 
rivers have rapidly carried, in sand and boulders 
and muddy and chemical solution, the disintegrated 
surface of the land to the bottom of the sea, and 
laid down there the sediments and deposits which. 


subsequently upheaved, form the Kashmir rocks 
of the present day. 

It is not until we come to the almost mediaeval 
period corresponding to the Coal Pleasures, about 
twenty million years ago, that the record of land 
life in Kashmir begins. 

In the hill-sides behind Khunmu, a little village 
about ten miles east of Srinagar, there is a series of 
rocks lying in layers over the older *' trap " rocks of 
volcanic origin which form the great bulk of the 
neighbouring mountains, and in these sedimentary 
rocks, in what are called carbonaceous shales, are 
found some ferns named gangamopteris. They 
were discovered in 1906 by Mr. Hay den, and they 
are estimated by him to be " not younger than 
Upper Carboniferous," and they " may belong 
to the basis of that subdivision, or even to the 
INIiddle Carboniferous," that is, they may be 
about fifteen to eighteen million years old. At 
the same place, but on a layer of later date, 
have also been found fossil brachiopods — marine 
shell -fish resembling cockles — also of Upper 
Carboniferous times. 

This, as it happens, was an interesting period in 
the earth's history. For there occurred about then. 



or somewhat earlier, an extensive upheaval in 
many parts of the world, and mountains which 
have been now removed were upheaved to an 
altitude comparable with that of the highest ranges 
of the present day, and in the Punjab there then 
existed a snowy range with glaciers. 

It was at this period that Kashmir was joined 
with the mainland of the Indian peninsula, which 
in its turn was joined with Africa, and now, at 
least, there must have been some vegetation and 
animal life. At this time of the Coal Measures 
— the remnants of forests growing in shallow 
sea- water — life was well advanced. Birds and 
mammals and flowers, and the more highly de- 
veloped animals and plants had not yet appeared, 
but in the sea lived such things as star-fishes, 
shell -fishes, corals, sea-urchins, sea -lilies, sea- 
cucumbers, feather stars, sea -worms, sea -snails, 
cuttlefish, water-fleas and mussels, shrimps, and 
lobsters and fishes. In the coal swamps were 
ferns, " horse-tails " similar to the horse-tails of the 
present day, but of gigantic size, club mosses more 
than fifty feet high, lycopods, trees with trunks 
fifty feet high, and which bore catkins ripening into 
berries not unlike those of yews. In the fresh water 
were some shell-fishes, crustaceans, and fishes. On 



land were spiders, scorpions, some of gigantic size, 
and centipedes. Through the air flew hundreds of 
different kinds of insects, May flies, cockroaches, 
crickets, and beetles. The magnate of the vertebrate 
world was the labyrinthodont (traces of which have 
been found in Kashmir), which had a salamander- 
Hke body, a long tail, bony plates to protect his head, 
and armour of integumentary scales to protect his 
body. Of land trees and plants there were lepido- 
dendrons with huge stems clad with linear leaves 
and bearing cones ; huge club mosses, climbing 
palms, such as grow in tropical forests of the 
present day, great funguses, and numerous ferns. 

Such was the type of vegetation and of land 
and sea animal life of the Coal period, and although 
not many remains of this age have yet been found 
in Kashmir, enough traces have been discovered to 
satisfy us that in the shallow estuarial water and 
on the islands of the inland sea there lived an 
animal and vegetable life which must have been 
very similar to what we know existed elsewhere. 

For another fourteen million years or so after 
the Coal period there is nothing special to record 
in the history of Kashmir. There may have been 
a line of islands along the core of the present 



ranges, but the greater part of Kashmir had sunk 
once more beneath the waters, in which new 
sediments to enormous thickness were being 
accumulated, till in the late Cretaceous period, or 
about four million years ago, the great crustal 
compression began which finally upheaved these 
deposits from the ocean bottom, and formed the 
Kashmir of the present day. This upheaval was, 
however, neither sudden nor continuous. It was 
very gradual, it had three distinct phases, and 
was not complete till a million years ago when 
the dividing ocean entirely disappeared, and the 
Himalaya reached its maximum height. 

And now at this period of upheaval — the 
Tertiary period of geologists — a great change had 
come in the animal and vegetable worlds. Man 
had not arisen even yet, but birds and mammals 
and flowers, and all kinds of trees were now 
developed ; and this marked the threshold of the 
modern type of life. The ages when the great 
ferns and palms and yew-like conifers were the 
leading forms of vegetation had passed away, 
and the period of the hard-wood trees and ever- 
greens had commenced. The great reptiles, too, 
which in such wonderful variety of type were the 


dominant animals of the earth's surface in the 
period following the Carboniferous now waned 
before the increase of the mammals. 

At the commencement of the Tertiary period 
there grew cypress, sequoise (Wellingtonia and 
redwood trees), chestnuts, beeches, elms, poplars, 
hornbeam, willows, figs, planes, maples, aloes, 
magnolia, eucalyptus, plums, almonds and alders, 
laurels, yews, palms, cactus, smilax, lotus, lilies, 
ferns, etc. Later on appeared cedars, spurge 
laurel, evergreen oak, buckthorn, walnut, sumachs, 
myrtle, mimosa and acacia, birch, hickory, bamboos, 
rose laurel, tulip trees ; and among flowers butter- 
cups, marsh marigolds, chick-weed, mare's tail, dock, 
sorrel, pond -weed, cotton-grass, and royal ferns. 
Traces of all these trees and plants have not been 
found in Kashmir, but remains of a great many 
of them have been discovered, and, as it was linked 
on with Europe where they have been found, there 
is no doubt that they and the animals now to be 
described must have grown in the varying altitudes 
of the now upraised mountains. 

This period, as we have seen, is particularly 
remarkable for the advent of mammals, and there 
now appeared the earliest representative of the 
tribe of monkeys ; the ancestors of the horse, about 



the size of small ponies with three toes on each 
foot ; herds of ancestral hornless deer and antelope ; 
animals allied to our wolves ; foxes ; numerous 
hog -like and large tapir -like animals, some the 
size of elephants with the habit of a rhinoceros ; 
opossums ; and representatives of hedgehogs, 
squirrels, and bats. The reptiles included tortoises 
and turtles, crocodiles and serpents. Birds had 
also for some time past developed from reptiles, 
and now included a kind of albatross and birds 
allied to the buzzard, osprey, hawk, nuthatch, 
quail, pelican, ibis, and flamingo. 

Later in the same period appeared parroquets, 
trogons, cranes, eagles, and grouse. And now was 
the reign of the hippopotamus, while there followed 
rhinoceros, shrew, moles, and musk rats. Later 
still the huge animals with probosces held the 
first place — the colossal mastodons and troops of 
elephants. The forests were also tenanted with 
apes. Other animals were sabre-toothed tigers 
and the earliest form of bear. Altogether Kashmir 
would at the time have been a paradise for sports- 
men. But man had not yet appeared. 

After the mountains had been finally upheaved 
it is evident, from the existence of those level 


plateaux of recent alluvial deposit called karewas, 
that the Kashmir valley must have been filled 
with a lake to some hundreds of feet higher than 
the present valley bottom. Where the Jhelum 
River at present escapes from the valley was then 
blocked up, and the whole valley filled with what 
must have been the most lovely lake in the world 
— twice the length and three times the width of 
the Lake of Geneva, and completely encircled by 
snowy mountains as high and higher than 
Mont Blanc ; while in the immediately following 
glacial period mighty glaciers came wending down 
the Sind, Lidar, and other valleys, even to the 
very edge of the water. 

Whether man ever saw this lovely lake it is 
not yet possible to say. The Glacial period com- 
menced rather more than a quarter of a million 
years ago, and it was about then that man first 
appeared, among other places, in the great river 
valleys of central and southern India, where the 
climate is not extreme, and wild fruits, berries, 
etc., were procurable at every season of the year. 
Hut when he spread up the valley of the Jhelum 
to Kashmir we have not yet the means of saying. 
What appear to be some remains of the handiwork 
of man were recently found by Mr. RadclifFe in a 



cave in the Lolab, near the borders of the Wular 
Lake, and seem to indicate the presence of man 
long anterior to the first dawn of Kashmir history. 
But the dawn of Kashmir history is only 2200 
years ago, and man must have appeared 250,000 
years before that. For thousands of years he must 
have been bravely battling against Nature and 
against the numerous and powerful animals which 
then lorded the earth. Slowly he must have made 
his way from the warm valleys of the Nerbudda 
and the Ganges to the rivers of the Punjab, and 
up the Jhelum valley into Kashmir. But he 
eventually established himself there as the beautiful 
lake was almost drained away and the Kashmir of 
the present day was finally evolved. 

So we bring up the history of the mountains till 
it joins with the history of the people ; and as the 
story finishes, does not one great thought emerge 
— the thought of the youth, the recentness of man 
alongside the hoary mountains ? During the one 
hundred million years of the mountains' history 
mankind has existed only a quarter of a million ; 
and his recorded history extends over not even a 
hundredth part of a single million years. And if 
we reflect on this, and consider, too, that the sun s 


heat will last to render life possible for many 
millions of years yet, does it not seem almost 
criminally childish for us — Hindus, Christians, and 
Mohamedans alike — to be so continually and inces- 
santly looking backward to great and holy men 
of the past, as if all the best were necessarily 
behind, instead of sometimes looking forward to 
the even greater men to come — to the " higher 
species of men who will yet evolve ; of whom our 
lioliest and our greatest are only the forerunners ; 
and for the production of whom it should be our 
highest duty to consciously and of purpose pave 
the way, as the poor primitive men, though uncon- 
sciously, prepared the ground for the civilised men 
of to-day? Ought we not to more accurately 
adjust our sense of proportion ; to rise above the 
ant-like attitude of mind, and attune our thoughts 
to the breadth and height of the mountains, to the 
purity of their snowy summits, and to the depth 
and clearness of the liquid skies they almost touch ? 

To some the sight of these mountain masses, 
the thought of the tremendous forces which gave 
them rise, and the idea of the aeons of time their 
moulding has involved, brings no other feeling 
than depression. The size, the titanic nature of 
the forces and the vastness of the time impress 



them only with a sense of the littleness of man in 
comparison. But why should the mountains thus 
depress ? Why should not their history bring us 
the more worthy thought of the mighty possibilities 
of the race ? For man, small in stature though he 
may be, is after all the flower and finish of the 
evolutionary process so far ; he is century by cen- 
tury acquiring a completer mastery over Nature ; 
and when we see how young and recent he is beside 
the aged mountains, when we realise how they 
have only evolved by minute gradations accumulat- 
ing over vast periods of time, and when we reflect 
that nearly similar periods may yet lie before man- 
kind, should not our thoughts dwell rather on 
man's future greatness and on the mighty destiny 
which he himself may shape ? 

With our imagination tethered to the hard-rock 
fact that man has developed from a savage to a 
Plato and a Shakespeare, from the inventor of the 
stone-axe to the inventor of telegraphy in the 
paltry quarter million years of his existence, may 
we not safely give it rope to wander out into the 
boundless future ? We are still but children. We 
may be only as young bees, crawling over the 
combs of a hive, who have not yet found their 
wings to fly out into the sun-lit world beyond. 



Even now we suspect ourselves of possessing wing- 
like faculties of the mind whose use we do not 
know, and to which we are as yet afraid to trust. 
But the period of our infancy is over. The time to 
let ourselves go is approaching. Should we not 
look confidently out into the future and nerve our- 
selves for bold, unfettered flight ? 

And may we not still further hope that in the 
many million years the earth may yet exist we 
may master the depressing fate which lies before 
us when the sun's heat is expended ; and look 
forward to evolving from ourselves beings of a 
higher order who will be independent of the used- 
up planet which gave them birth, and may be 
swarm away to some far, other sun-lit home ? 


Abbotabad, 57 
Acbibal, 60, 116, 123 
Administration, 183 
Afghanistan, 138, 232 
Afghans, 159, 176 
Africa, 258, 265 

South, 254 
Aghil range, 237 
Agra, Taj at, 157 
Aishmakam, 210 
Ajit Singh, 166 
Akbar, 142, 157 
Alexander the Great, 189 
Alfred, King, 143 
Aliwal, 168 
Almonds, 199 

Amar Singh, Raja Sir, 68, 69, 

118, 184, 2] 5 
Amaranth, 202 

Amarnath, caves of, 60, 113, 114 

America, 257, 258 

Aparwat, 106 

Apples, 196, 217 

Apricots, 96, 176, 199, 202 
trees, 19, 36, 158 

Archaiological Department Sur- 
vey, 81 

Arts, 210 

Aru, 113, 123 

Asia, Central, 61, 143, 263 

Asoka, the Buddhist king, 33, 75, 
138, 139, 140 

Astor, 62, 120, 121 

Austin, Godwin, 236 


Autumn in Kashmir, 36, 38 
Avantipur, 135 
Avantipura, 145 
Avantivarman, 145, 146 
Awatkula, 111 

Baber, Emperor, 211 
Badakhshan, 143 
Bad wan, 123 

Baltistan, 3, 50, 61, 109, 120, 121 
164, 184, 232 
Governor of, 50 
Bandipur, 61, 62 
Banihal Pass, 17 

Baramula, 5, 6, 57, 69, 104, 124, 
146, 183, 206, 231, 232, 241 

Road, 84 
Bara-singh. See Kashmir stag." 
Barley, 200, 205 
Barstow, Captain, 120 
Basket work, 215 
Bauxite, 210 
Bawan, 112 
Beans, white, 201 
Beas river, 169 
Bedford, Duke of, 122 
Bengal, 138 

settlement of, 191 
Beoru, 123 
Bernier, 1, 2, 158 
Bijbehara, 60, 111, 112 
Birches, 206 
Biscoe's School, Mr., 72 
Blue pine, 206 



Boat-building, 216 
Boatmen, 132 
Bodhisattva, 141 
Bokhara, 21(j 
Bombay, 196 
Brahminism, 139 
Brahministic Hinduism, 141 
Brahmins, 112, 149, 156 
British Government, 168, 1()9, 170, 
173, 182, 183, 184, 210 

troops, 167 

Indian troops, 167 

Resident, 183 

territory, 167 
Buckwheat, 201 
Buddha, 135 
Buddhism, 139, 140, 141 
Buddhist monasteries, 61 

temple, 5, 138 
Bulbuls, 7 
Bullock carts, 56 

Bund," 69, 70 
Buniar, 134 

Burbank, Mr. Luther, 94 
Burma, 249 

Burrard, Colonel, 234, 236, 238, 

240, 242, 246, 250 
Burzil, 123 

Butter, clarified, 201, 218 

Calcutta, 31, 44, 196 

Cambrian period, 262 
rocks, pre-, 261 

Carbonaceous system, 257 

Carboniferous period, 268 

Carpets, 212 

Cashmere, 171 

Cauvery Falls, 223 

Chamba, 163, 170 

( liarlemagne, 143 

Chenab river, 208 

Chenar, trees, 6, 19, 20, 23, 27, 28, 
29, 32, 34, 35, 36, 37, 43, 60, 
65, 66, 70, 76, 79, 80, 82, 83, 
84, 85, 87, 89, 92, 97, 112, 
116, 208, 209 
foliage, 24 

Chenars, Isle of, 29, 78 
China, 250 

Chitral, 154, 155, 175 

frontier, 62 
Cholera, 232 
Christians, 272 

Clarified butter. See Butter" 
Coal Measures, 264, 265 
Coal period, 266 
('olumbines, 93 
Copper, 210, 220 

work, 214 
Cornwallis, Lord, 191 
Cotton, 202, 205 

cloth, 216 

piece-goods, 219 
Cretaceous period, late, 267 
Customs, the (source of revenue), 
184, 187 

Dabgrah, 203 

Dachigam stream, 26, 123, 124 

valley, 27, 79 
Dak bungalows, 31, 56, 57 
Dal Darwaza lock, the, 75, 78 
Dal Lake, 20, 28, 29, 82, 59, 74, 

75, 79, 81, 82, 132, 141, 159, 

198, 203, 209 
Danjhibhoy, 47 
Darjiling, 3, 102, 235, 239 
Dauvergne, M., 211 
Deccan, 138 

Decentralisation, Royal Com- 
mission on, 46 
Deodar forest, 116, 206 

trees, 71, 206, 226 
Devonian period, 257 
Dhulip Singh, 166, 167 
Dhyan Singh, 164, 166 
Dogra country, 163 

Rajput, 163 
Downes, Dr., 73 
Dragon-flies, 39, 40 
Drew, Mr., 174 
Duck shooting, 16, 39, 41, 121 
Dundee Chamber of Commerce, 



Dunga-boats, 57, 58 
Durbar, 54, 175, 233 

East ludia Company, 172 
Edwards, Colonel, 41, 121 
Egypt, 139 

Egyptian temples, 115 
Electric installation, 214 
Electrical Department, 185 

Scheme, 222 
Elizabeth, Queen, 157 
Elm tree, 209 
Elmslie, Dr., 73 
Enamel work, 214 
Engineer, Chief, 185 

State, 185 
Eocene period, 258 
Erin, 123 

Everest, Mount, 235, 237, 248 

Farozepur nulla, 105 

Ferozepore fort, 167 

Ferozeshah, 168 

Field, Mr., 232 

Fir, silver, 206 

Flax, Russian, 204 

Forest Department, 184, 207, 227 

Forests, 206 

Forests, Conservator of, 185 
Food grains, 199 
Fowls, 49 
Fruit, 196 

Game Preservation Department, 

118, 121 
Ganderbal, 60, 108 
Gandhara, 115 

Gangabal Lake, 60, 110, 123 
Ganges, the, 144, 271 
Gap, the, 28, 29 
Garuda, 86 
Ghi, 201, 218 
Gilgit, 62, 184 
district, 121 
Gobi Desert, 262 
Gold- washings, 210 
Gopaditya, 74 

Gorai, 123 

Govardhanadhara, temple to the 

god, 86 
Gneco-Buddhist art, 139 
Grain, 49, 199 
Grapes, 198 

"Greater V^ehicle of the Law," 

Greece, 133, 137, 139 
Gujars, 113 

Gulab Singh, Raja, 160, 162, 163, 
164, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 
171, 172, 173, 174, 177 

Gulmarg, 12, 17, 34, 98, 109, 114, 
206, 241, 249, 260 
Residency at, 98, 104 

Gupkar, 28, 70 

Gupta period, 115 

Gurais, 34, 62, 183 

Hanji (boatmen), 132 

Haramokh peak, 6, 17, 18, 28, 30, 

61, 85, 110, 235, 237, 239, 


Hardinge, Governor - General, 

Lord, 168, 171 
Hari Parbat fort, 20, 32, 157 
Harsa, King, 150, 151 
Harwan, 18, 19, 20, 21, 24, 25, 26, 

27, 141 
hatchery, 25, 122, 124 
Hayden, H. H., 234, 243, 244, 

245, 246, 251, 264 
Hazara, 147, 169 
Hedin, Dr. Sven, 53 
Hemp, 158 
Hides, 218 

Himalaya, 2, 36, 50, 131, 234, 239, 
241, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 
249, 250, 251, 255, 258, 260 
Hindu, the, 126, 128, 159, 161, 
202, 272 
rule, 155 
rulers, 160 

temple, 5, 67, 70, 72, 74, 76, 156 
Hindustan, plains of, 160 
Hira Singh, 166 



Hiuen Tsiaiig, Chinese Buddhist 

pilgrim J 141 
Hokrar, 17 

Gliat, '"jheel," 16 

marsh, 88 

Lake, 38 
Home Department, 184 
Horse chestnut, 24, 92, 102, 206 
House-boats, 57, 70, 216 
Hunza, 3, 52, 154, 243 

frontier, 63 

river, 243 

Ibex, 120, 121 
Ice mountain, 248 
Imports, 219 

India, 38, 137, 139, 215, 236, 257, 
263, 270 
Central, 142 

Geolc^ical Survey of, 235, 247, 

Govea-nment of, 185, 186, 219, 

234, 236 
Native States of, 183 
plains of, 224, 225, 240 
Superintendent in the Geol ogical 

Survey of, 234 
Surveyor-General of, 234 
Indian Civil Service, 185 
Forest Department, 185 
Ocean, 36 
Peninsula, 265 
Indus river, 169, 170, l7l, 210, 


Industries, 216 
Iris, 21, 24, 25, 32, 91 
Iron, 210, 217 
Islam, 159 

Islamabad, 33, 58, 60, 112, 116, 

135, 161,^62, 210 
lyesthesvara, 74 

Jama Masjid, the, 71 
Jammu, 126, 163, 1()4, 167, 168, 
169, 173, 210 

Governor of, 184 

State, 183 

Jaunsar period, 257 
.layasimha, King, 153 
Jehangir, Moghal Emperor, 80, 
83, 157 

Jhelum, the, 5, 17, 31, 49, 60, 61, 
63, 74, 85, 104, 120, 124, 135, 
145, 149, 182, 183, 200, 206, 
208, 209, 210, 214, 223, 225, 
226, 232, 249, 270, 271 

Josephine, Empress, 211 

Judiciary, The, 184 

Judge of the High Court, 184 

Judge, Chief, 60, 187 

K2 peak, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 

241, 243, 244, 248 
Kabul, 142, 163 
Kagasi, 198 

Kaj Nag mountains, 17, 20, 120 
Kalhana, 154 
Kamri Pass, 250 
Kanauj, king of, 143, 144 
Kangra, 147, 163 
Kanibal, 116 
Kanishka, King, 140 
Karakoram Pass, 52, 61 

range, 235, 236, 248 
Karewa, a, 84, 270 
Kashmir, Governor of, 184, 186 

history of, 133 

the people, 125 

Proper, 2, 183 

Province, 126 

range. North, 183, 250 

stag, 9, 10, 13, 41 

State, 70, 126, 183, 209, 210, 
235, 240 

tulips, 66, 90 

valley of, 2, 3, 6, 28, 34, 79, 
114, 117, 121, 134, 136, 165, 
183, 225, 237, 241 
village, 25 
Kashmirian architecture, 134, 145 
Kashmiris, 98, 130, 137, 138, 186, 
199, 201, 205, 216, 217, 

Kennard, Mr. i\l T., 58, 121 



Kliagan raii^e, 17^ 20, 79 
Khagan snows, oO, 78 
Khumiu, 264 

Khurruk Singh, MaharMja, 169 
Kinchiujuiiga peak, 103, 237, 243, 

range, 23o 
King- Emperor, 67 
Kirghiz, 211 
Kishenganga, 123, 249 
Kishtwar range, 18 
Kofwara, 111 
Kohala, 183 
Kolahoi glacier, 60, 113 

peak, 114 
Kolar gold-fields, 223 
Kotwal, 161 
Kumaon, 248 
Kurseong, 239 

Ladak, 51, 52, 54, 61, 109, 120, 

164, 184, 210, 232 
Lahore, 163, 165, 166, 167, 169, 

171, 173 
Court, 165 

Government at, 168, 169 
State, 169, 170 
Treaty of, 169, 171 
Lahoul, 170 

Lalitaditya, King, 63, 85, 115, 

142, 143 
structures, 145 
Lalpura, 111 
Lai Singh, 167, 168 
Land Revenue administration, 


Lawrence, Mr., 159, 191, 200, 208 
Lawrence, Sir Henry, 69, 173 
Lawrence, Sir Walter, 125, 127, 

131, 188 
Leh, 61 

Letters of Queen Victoria, The, 171 

Lhasa, 61 

Lidar stream, 112 

valley, 34, 60, 111, 135, 270 
Lidarwat, 113 
Liddar, the, 123 

Liddar valley, 210 

Lilac, 93 

Limestone, 210 

Linseed, 33, 34, 201, 218 

Log hridge, 6 

Lolab, the, 48, 110, 161 

valley, 209, 271 
Lotbiniere, Major Alain de, R. E., 

145, 146, 222, 223, 225, 226, 

Lotus, the, 77 
Lumberdars, 187 

M'Mahon, Lieutenant • General, 

Madagascar, 254 
Madras, 223 

Mahadeo peak, 20, 22, 23, 79 
Maharaja, H. H. See Pratab Singh 

the late, 73, 181 
Maharaja's preserves, 122 
Mahdi of the Mohamedans, 129 
Mahmud of Ghazni, 150, 155 
Maize, 200, 205, 217 
Manasbal l^ke, 37, 210 
Manchester, cotton goods, 219 
Manjis, 132 

Manufactures, 194, 210 

Maple, 206 

Markhor, a, 120, 121 

Marshal, Mr., 115 

Martand, 60, 85, 114, 115, 135, 

Mar war, 123 

" xMeadow of Flowers," 98 
Mecca, 71 

Meruvad-dhana, minister, 75 
Messiah of the Jews, 129 
Metals, 220 
Middlemiss, Mr., 259 
Mihirakula, the White Hun," 

Millet, 201 

Mineral products, 209 

Minto, Lord, 27, 38, 69, 117, 123, 

124, 204 
Mirza Haider, 156 


Mirpur. 103 

Mitchell, Mr. Frank, 122, 124 
Moffhal emperors, 15G 

Empire, 159 

jrardens, 29, 59, 116 

times, 77, 8-4 
Mo£rhals,the, 81,150,157, 159,198 
Mohamed, 143 
Mohamed Jan, 59 
Mohamedan buildings, 71 

dynasty, 155 

period, 154 
Moliamedanism, 150, 155, 160 
Mohamedans, 126, 128, 129, 161, 

186, 272 
Monsoon, tlie, 35 
Montgomerie, Colonel, 235, 237 
Moorcroft, Mr., 48, 49, 160, 161 
Mosquitoes, 39 
Mothi, 201 

Mount Everest, 235, 237, 248 
Mountain ranges, 234, 247 
Mudki, 168 

Mulberry, 22, 24, 28, 35, 36, 43, 
8.5, 89, 92, 116, 176, 199 
trees, 195, 196 
MulUu, 167 
Mung, 201 

Munslii Bagh, 68, 69 
Munsiff, 187 
Murree hill, 57, 232 
Musherbrum Peak, 243 
Mussouri, 239 
Mustagh Pass, 50, 51, 248 
Mustard, 203 

fields, 32, 33, 34 
Mutiny, tlie, 174 
Mysore, 223 

Nagarjuna, 141 

Naib-tehsildars, 186 

Nanga Par])at peak, 6, 61, 101, 
103, 104, 106, 237, 241, 243, 
244, 248, 250, 253, 260 

Nasim Bagh, 59, 78, 79 

Nedou's hotel, 47, 57, 70 

Nepal, 234, 235 

Nerbudda, 271 

Neve, Dr. Arthur, 73 

Neve, Dr. Ernest, 73 

Neve, Miss, 73 

Neve's Hospital, Dr., 72 

Nichols, Dr. 81 

Nicholson, John, 69 

Nishat Bagh, 29, 32, 59, 77, 78, 

80, 82, 157 
Northern Canon, The, 141 
Nun Kun peaks, 249 
Nurmahal, 80, 157 

Oil-seeds, 201 
Oudh, 163 
Ovis Poli, 62 

Pahlgam, 34, 60, 100, 112,113,114 
Pamirs, the, 52, 61, 62, 243 
Pampur, 63, 135, 202, 210 

plateau, 64 
Pandit Rada Kishen Kol, 50 
Pandrathan, 33, 75, 135, 139 
Papier-mache, 214 
Paraspur, 84 

Pariansipura, plateau of, 63 
Parihasapura, 84, 85, 144 
Parsi shops, 70 
Pashm, 211, 212 
Patau, 135 

temples of, 135 
Pat war i, 189 
Payech, 135 
Peaks, the, 234 
Pears, 197, 217 
Peas, 201 
Peat, 210 

Peking, 50, 143, 236 

Peychaud, M. 197 

Phaseolas acoiiitifolins, 201 

Phaseolus Mungo, 201 

Phaseolus radiatus, 201 

Picea morbid a, 206 

Pinus eoccelsa, 206 

Pir Panjal range, 11, 13, 17, 20, 

28, 35, 37, 43, 79, 98, 105, 

114, 241, 249 



Platanus oriental is, 208 
Poliru river^ 1 1 i 
Police, the, 184 

Poplar trees, 21, 24, 32, 33, 35, 
36, Go, 90, 91, 209 

Post Office, 70 

Potala at Lhasa, 157 

Potatoes, 203, 218 

Pratab Model Farm, 203 

Pratab Singh, Maharaja Sir, 
G.C.S.I., 16, 26, 27, 38, 50, 
54, 65, 66, 67, 87, 98, 117, 
118, 123, 124, 145, 181, 184, 
186, 187, 203, 222, 232 
Palace, 68 

Products, 194 

Protozoa, 261 

Public^Vorks Department, 184, 185 
Punch, 153 

House of, 149 

Raja of, 164 

River, 123 
Pundits, 126 

Punjab, the, 5, 48, 49, 129, 138, 
139, 143, 147, 150, 155, ]59, 
163, 166, 168, 171, 172, 177, 
186, 198, 200. 203, 206, 207, 
217, 218, 220, 224, 232 
Bank, 70 
peasants, 219 
Puranadhisthana, 75 
"Puttoo" cloth, 195, 215 

Quadiana sect, 129, 130 
Quinces, 198 

Raah, 201 
Radcliffe, Mr., 270 
Rahem Sheikh, 43 
Rajatarangini, the, 85 
Rajavihara, the, 86 
Rajput Hill States, 171 
Rajputana, 163, 252 
Rakaposhi peak, 243 
Ramnager, Raja of, 164 
Rampur, 5, 57^ 135, 206, 210, 223, 
226, 252 

Ranbir Singh, Maharaja, 174, 175 
Ranjit Singh, 48, 159, 162, 164, 

166, 167 
Ranjit Singh's Dewan, 164 
Rape, 201, 202 
Ravi river, 170 

Rawal Pindi, 5, 55, 56, 69, 196, 

Rawlence, Dr, 73 

Rawlinson, Sir Henry, 236 
I Residency, the, 53, 54, 70 
I garden', 87, 208, 209 
I Resident, the, 16, 38, 43, 53, 65, 
j 68 

Revenue from land, 187, 193 

Rice, 199, 205, 217 
! fields, 23, 35, 158 

Robinson, Miss, 73 

Roses, 25, 92, 94 

Royal Engineer Officer, 185 

Royal Geographical Society, 236 

Saffron, 158, 202 

Salt, 219 
' Sapphires, 210 
j Se.samum indicum, 202 

Settlement Commissioner, 185 
I Shadipur, 37, 60, 61, 84, 85, 135, 

Shah Hamadan, Mosque of, 67, 71 
Shah Jahan, Emperor, 71 
Shah Mir, 155, 156 
Shalimar Bagh, 29, 59, 77, 78, 79, 

80, 82, 83, 157 
Shalimar garden, 123, 203 
Shawls, 134, 170, 194, 210, 211 
Sher Singh, 162, 16(5 
Shikar suit, a, 215 
Shikara, 58, 65 

Shikari, 9, 10, 12, 15, 17, 38, 41, 

43, 57 
Shisha Nag, 113 
Shukar All, 51, 52, 53, 54 
Sliupaiyon, 161, 162 
Siberian duck, 38 
Sikh army, 167, 168 
J Government, 160, 169, 172 



Sikh rulers, 163 

soldiery, 16(3 

State, i71 
Sikhs, 147, 161, 164, 165, 169, 

of the Plains, 171 
Silk, 213, 218 
Silurian period, 262 
Silver lir, 206 

work, 214 
Sind river, 34, 87, 60, 61, 63, 75, 
78, 85, 108, 111, 113, 135, 
253, 270 
Singhare, 132 
Siva, the ffod, 74 
Skins, 218 
Sobraon, 168 

Sonamarg, 34, 61, 100, 108, 

Sopur, 111, 145, 203, 210 
Spiti, 262 
Sport, 118 

Spring in Kashmir, 27, 30, 33 
Spruce, Himalayan, 206 
Srinag-ar, 5, 6, 7, 16, 18, 26, 27, 
28, 30, 33, 41, 44, 48, 40, 55, 
56, 57, 50, 63, 65, 60, 70, 71, 
74, 75, 80, 88, 98, 103, 110, 
112, 123, 127, 120, 130, 135, 
130, 142, 145, 148, 153, 173, 
181, 187, 105, 106, 203, 213, 
214, 210, 231, 232, 249, 253, 
257, 264 
City of the Sun, 63 
Guest House, 69 
Museum, 60, 212 
road, 84 

State, the, 178, 184, 185, 102, 

li)6, 213, 216 
State Hospital, 60 
Stein, Dr., 74, 137, 145 
Sugar, 220 
Sulphur springs, 210 
Summer in Kashmir, 34 
Sutlej river, 163, 167, 249 
Suyya, 145, 146 
Swadeshi movement, 195, 215 

Taj at Agra, 80, 136 
Takht-i-Suliman, 28, 34, 70, 74, 

75, 135, 253, 257 
Tannin, 123 
Tatakuti peak, 17, 240 
Tea, 220 
Tehsildars, 186 
Tej Singh, 167 

Tertiary period, 258, 267, 268 
Third Great Council of the 

Church, 140 
Throv Deo, 163 
Tian Shan mountains, 211 
Tibet, 102, 164, 194, 235, 239, 


Tibetan goat, 104, 211 
Til, 201, 202 
Tilail, 62 
Timber, 218 
Tobacco, 202 
Tonga, 47, 55, 56 
Trade, 217 

Tragbal, 61, 62, 100, 123 

Pass, 61 
Travel in Kashmir, 47 
Turkestan, 61, 128, 235 

plains of, 243 

Chinese, 51, 52, 104, 211 
Turkis. See Moghals 

Uri, 40, 134, 206 
Ush Turfan, 211 

Vaishu stream, 124 

Vecula, King, 152 

Vernag, springs of, 60 

Viceroy, 43 

Viceroys, sport of, 27 

Victoria, Queen, Letters of, 171 

Vigne, 161, 164 

Vishnu, 75, 112 

Mahavaraha, temple of, 86 
Muktakesava, temple of, 86 
Parihasakesave, temple of, 

Vishu, 123 
Volcanoes, 257 



^^^alker, General, 236 

Walnut, 22, 24, 27, 35, 85, 

92, 111, 116, 158, 198, 202, 


^^augat, river, 123 
AV^angat ruins, 60 

Valley, 110 
^rard, Colonel, 112, 122 
AV^ater-lilies, 39 
^Fater nuts, 132 
Wheat, 158, 201, 205 

fields, 33 
Wigram, Major, 87, 118, 121, 124, 

^Villow, 22, 24, 32, 33, 34, 35, 70, 
85, 88, 89, 209, 215 

Wilson, Mr. S., 73 
\Vood-carving, 214 
Wool, 218 

Wular Lake, 58, 61, 103, 104, 
132, 271 

Yarkand, 51 

serai, 66 
Yus Asaf, 129, 130 

Zain-ul-ab-ul-din, King, 156 
Zenana hospital, 66 
Zewan, 253 
Zoji Pass, 250 
Zoji-la-Pass, 61, 109, 249 
Zorawar Singh, 164 


Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinbu7'gh. 



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George Morland 

By Sir Walter Gilbey, Bt. 50 
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1 he Channel Islands 

Painted by Henry B. Wi.mbush. 
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Kate Greenaway 

I'Y M. H. Spielmann, F.S.A., and 
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By Nico Jungman. Text by 
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The Royal Navy 

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From Damascus to 

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The Holy Land 

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N«=»txA 2^<*alatid 

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Egyptian Birds 

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By Mortimer Menpes. Text by 
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John Pettie ; Northern Spain 

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The Riviera 

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Southern Spain 

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Bonnie Scotland 

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West Indies 

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Home. 71 Full-Page Illustrations in 

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A Book of Porcelain 

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The Highlands and Islands of 

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From SKetch=BooK and Diary 

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By W. Teignmouth Shore. Painted 
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Adventures among 

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A History of the 
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Eton from a Backwater 


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Alpine Flowers and 

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Gardens of England 

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The Garden that I Love 

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The Beautiful 
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1 Brabant & East Flanders 

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British Floral Decoration 

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William Callow 

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Country Sketches for 
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Dutch Bulbs 6 Gardens 

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Painted by John Fulleylove, R.I. 
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English Costume 

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Painted by J. Hardwicke Lewis 
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Grouse and 
Grouse Moors 

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Haunts of Ancient Peace 

r,v Alfred Austin {Poet Laurent:'). 
Paiiue.l bj' Agnes Locke. 20 Fall- 
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Flowers and Gardens of 

Painted by Ella Du Cane. Des- 
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Our Life in the Swiss 

By John Addington Symonds and 
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The Heart of Scotland 

Painted by Sutton Palmer. Des- 
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Painted by Signor V. BoRON. Des- 
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The Homes of Tennyson 

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TnnQ of Oouft 

X 11 Ala xJM. v^i^f \>A& \ 

Painted by Gordon Home. Des- 
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Painted by John Fulleyi ove, R.I. 
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Painted by J. Hardwicke Lewis. 
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JLvays with Velasquez 

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T«lf> nf Man 

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Westminster Abbey 

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Isle of Wight 

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The New Forest 

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Lamia's Winter Quarters 

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Painted by Arthur George Bell. 
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Painted l;y George M. Kenton. 
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Painted by J. Hardwicke Lewis 
and May Hardwicke Lewis. 
Described by Francis H. Gribule. 
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The Rubaiyat of Omar 

Translated by Edward Fitzgerald. 
Painted by Gilbert James. Edited, 
with notes, by Reynold Alleyne 
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Painted by Thomas Tyndale. Des- 
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Letters from the Holy 

By Lady Butler, Painter of "The 
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The Wye 

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Painted by Alberto Pisa. Described 
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Coast and Moorland Scenes 

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Liege and the Ardennes 

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Dales and Fells 

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Text by A. R. Hope Moncrieff. 
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Scottish Life and 

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Vales and Wolds 

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The Tower of London 

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The Upper Engadine 

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Kew Gardens 

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By Mortimer Men pes. Text by 
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The Peak Country 

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Fishermen's Weather 

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Trout Fishing 

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Salmon Fishing 

By W. Karl Hodgson. Containing 
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, The Ramparts of Empire 

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I Oriental Carpets, Runners and Rugs, 
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The Motor Routes of England 

A Guide to the Beautiful Scenery and Interesting 
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The Motor Routes of France. Fart I. 

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The Practical Angler 

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Younghusband, (Sir) 
Francis Edward